A Fair Life
by Rtnwriter
Summary: Harry has died for the twelfth time and his Reaper is NOT happy about it. Given a chance to go back to fourth year and do things again, Harry jumps at the opportunity. But what's this about being a girl! Don't Fear the Reaper with a twist. Fem!Harry. FemSlash.
1. Meet the Reaper

**Author's notes: All right, boys and girls, this is a twist on the much repeated Don't Fear the Reaper Challenge. Basically, Harry dies at age 17 while fighting Voldemort and winds up in the Afterlife facing his Death Angel. In thus story I go with a Reaper. The Reaper tells Harry he has a destiny to meet his soulmate, some Granger girl, beat Voldemort and live to a ripe old age. Problem is Harry keeps dying before this can happen and if he dies one more time the Reaper is going to get fired. So he's going to send Harry back in time, with his memories for one last chance to get it right. **

**The twist I'm throwing in is that Harry is actually a girl. He was born a girl but was made to appear Male for reasons that will be explained. So part of this will be Harry being changed back into her proper, female body and the whole process of dealing with all that entails. **

**Obviously this is a Fem!Harry story and there will be FemSlash as her soulmate is still Hermione. This is your warning if that's not of interest to you. I've got 8 and a half chapters finished but I won't update rapidly, just right now some life stuff is bogging me down and I wanted to post something for someone to enjoy even if I originally wanted to have this story finished or mostly finished before I started publishing. I'm still working on my other stories just... things aren't good right now and I need a little good. **

**Disclaimer: I dont own Harry Potter or anything else.**

**Enjoy chapter one of A Fair Life**

A Fair Life

Meet the Reaper

By,

Rtnwriter

_This is… nice,_ Harry thought, absently looking at his surroundings. _Very calm and peaceful. _The calm and peaceful surroundings that he was considering were white. A lot of white. The walls, the carpet, the ceiling, furniture, even the clothes he was wearing. All white.

_Speaking of… where did these clothes come from?_ he thought, looking down at the garments adorning his body. He was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt made from some light, gauzy sort of material as well as a similar pair of trousers and even thin white slippers on his feet.

"Potter, Harry J.?"

As a soft voice interrupted his inspection, he looked up to find a young looking woman standing a few feet from him. She was wearing a simple, floor length white dress made from the same material as his own clothes that just brushed the tops of her bare feet. Her light brown hair fell down her back in cascading waves and she had warm blue eyes set into a heart shaped face. In one hand she held a clipboard with a single piece of paper secured to it.

All in all, Harry thought that she was very pretty.

"You're beautiful," he said, before he even realized that he was going to say it.

The woman smiled. "Thank you, that's very nice of you to say. You are Harry Potter, correct?"

Harry blinked slowly. "Yes, that's me."

The woman hummed, her eyes tracing down the paper on her clipboard for a moment before she clucked her tongue and let out a sigh. "Oh, dear. He's not going to be happy about this at all. Well, better get it over with. If you'll follow me, please?"

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned and started to walk away. Absently, Harry rose to his feet and followed her, his steps carrying him until he was walking beside her. Later, he would be unable to recall how long it was that they walked, only that it was a long time and they never once spoke or came across another person during their journey.

Eventually, they arrived outside of a white door, almost invisible against the white walls. The still unnamed woman raised her hand and knocked twice.

"Yes?" a voice called from the other side of the door.

Reaching out she grasped the knob and turned it, pushing the door open just enough for her to look inside and speak to whoever was in the room beyond. Her voice was soft enough that, even standing just behind her, Harry couldn't hear what she said.

He certainly heard the response though.

"Who?"

The woman answered.

"Potter? Potter, Pot… Potter!"

There came a loud crash, a scrabbling sound, followed by the unmistakable noise of papers flying through the air. A few heavy footsteps reached their ears before the door was abruptly yanked open and the woman stepped to the side as a man filled the doorway.

A very, _very_ large man.

Harry didn't _think_ the man was as large as his friend, Hagrid, but it was probably a close thing. He was big enough, at any rate, that to exit the room he would have had to duck, as well as turn sideways, in order to fit through the opening.

Like everything else in this place, he was dressed entirely in white. White shoes, slacks, belt, dress shirt, and blazer, all of which fit his large frame as if perfectly tailored for him. Harry supposed they probably were, no way a guy that big bought anything off the rack.

"Potter!" he bellowed, icy blue eyes wide in apparent shock, and perhaps a bit of terror. "No… no, no, no!" One massive arm shot forward and Harry let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly grabbed and yanked through the doorway, the door itself slamming closed behind him as he was swung about into the middle of a cramped, messy office.

"What in the blazes do you think you're doing here?" the man snarled angrily. "Are you _trying_ to get me fired? Really? Because if you are, you're doing a damned good job of it. I don't think anyone else has ever had this much trouble from a client before. Even that Jeanne girl didn't give my predecessor this much trouble."

"I don't even know where 'here' is," Harry protested, struggling weakly against the hold on his arm. "And I don't know who you are, either. We've never met before, so why would I be trying to get you fired?"

The man's face settled into a shocked expression again for a moment before it twisted up in distaste. "Right," he muttered, absently letting go of Harry's arm. "Memory wipe, you wouldn't remember our last meetings." He sighed and straightened up to his full height, towering over Harry. With a wave of one hand dozens of scattered files lifted off the ground and flew through the air, neatly arranging themselves into a filing cabinet set against one wall. A chair moved across the room and set itself in front of the large desk that took up most of the space in the office as a single, very thick, file rose from a shelf and settled on the desk. The man walked around behind the desk itself and picked up a white leather office chair, setting it upright from where it had apparently fallen over on the floor.

"Well?" he said as he sat down. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? Take a seat, we've got work to do."

Slightly nervously, Harry took the offered seat, carefully eyeing the irritable giant across from him. "Umm… Sir?"

The man looked up from where he was paging through the file.

"I'm sorry, but… who are you? And… what is this place? How did I get here?"

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how many times I've asked that repeat clients get a partial memory restore," he muttered. "Having to tell the same story multiple times gets old." He leaned forward and folded his hands atop the open file. "This place is, what I like to call, The Waystation. It's a stop over point for individuals after their death to go over some paperwork before they move on to their next destination."

Harry's eyes widened and the man nodded.

"You guessed it, Harry. The fact that you're here means that you're dead."

"Oh." Harry's voice was very small as he spoke and he glanced around again. "And… who are you, again?"

"I don't have a name, none of my kind do, but I am a Reaper. It's my job to guide departed souls on to their next destination, wherever that may be."

"A Reaper," Harry repeated. "Is… is there a reason that I'm so calm about all this? I would think I would be more upset to find out that I died."

"Part of the nature of this place," the Reaper said. "The whole shuffling off of the mortal coil thing can be a jarring experience, especially for people that died violently, or while in battle, like you did. Last thing we want is for someone to go from combat to suddenly being here, still in 'fight mode', and hopped up on adrenaline to boot."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense, I suppose."

"Just give it a few minutes and you'll be back to normal once the shock has worn off."

Indeed, even as the Reaper spoke, Harry felt a bit of the unnatural calm that had possessed him since his arrival start to slip. Not a lot, but enough that traces of worry began to filter through.

"So, what happened?" he asked. "Are my friends okay? Did we win, at least?"

"Well, it's encouraging that one of the first things you ask is if your friends are safe. Before I answer you, though, why don't you tell me what you can remember?" the Reaper suggested.

"We were at Hogwarts," Harry said, slowly gathering his scattered thoughts together as he spoke. "Voldemort was attacking the castle…" His eyes suddenly widened again. "I was fighting him!"

"Right, that's good," the Reaper said, flipping toward the back of the file in front of him. "That entire battle did… rather a lot of damage," he said in a somber tone.

Harry wanted to swear. He wanted to curse and rant and get good and _furious_, but he couldn't. Whatever was keeping him calm in the face of his sudden death was still in effect.

"All that… everything we went through… it was all for nothing?"

"At this point? Yeah, pretty much."

Harry seemed to collapse inward, slumping down in his chair in defeat.

"Of course, since you _keep_ failing to complete your destiny, we'll need to send you back, _again_."

Harry perked up at that, straightening in his seat as his bright green eyes came up to fix on the imposing figure before him. "Send me back? Wait… again? How many times have I been here?"

"Finally, he gets it," the Reaper suddenly burst out, leveling an annoyed glare in the teen's direction. "I've only mentioned repeat clients and you being here before a few times now."

"Well excuse me, I'm a little distracted by the whole being dead thing," Harry snapped back, ire rising in his chest.

"Good, you're starting to drop the calm. We're going to need you firing on all cylinders going ahead, so keep that up." The large Reaper leaned back in his seat, eyeing Harry for a moment before he leaned forward again, hands once more folded atop the file. "There are some people, Harry, that have a destiny about them. Well… correction, _everyone_ has a destiny. Every living person has a fate, a predetermined goal they're supposed to achieve in their life.

"Now, they still have free will. They make their own choices, it is simply that things will happen around them that will, hopefully, lead them to the point where they can fulfill whatever destiny it is that they have. Most people don't actually complete their destinies. In fact, with most people it isn't even a problem when they don't. Their destiny is usually something small. But there are some people who have a destiny that will affect the world at large, and those people, when they die before completing their appointed destiny? We send them back so they can get another chance at completing it."

"So I can still beat him? I can still beat Voldemort?"

"No, you can't."

Harry flinched, staring aghast at the man.

"But you just said-"

"I said that we send them back. Right now, you don't have the skill, or the power, to beat Voldemort. Seriously kid, he's got more than fifty years on you in terms of skill and magical knowledge. Do you really think a seventeen year old kid that hasn't even finished school will be able to beat him?"

"Then what's the fucking point?" Harry snapped. "Isn't my destiny to beat Voldemort? That's what the prophecy said, only I can kill him."

"Right, but you need certain things before you can do that, and so far you've been increasingly stupid in getting what you need to get the job done. You pushed away your friends. Hell, you didn't even _make_ many friends to begin with. You didn't get together with your soulmate, like you were supposed to. You didn't think for yourself. You didn't train. You didn't do _anything_ to increase your chances at winning the fight once you came face to face with old snake lips. Then, to top it all off, you listened to a senile old coot that seemed to think the best he could do to prepare you was give you a scavenger hunt with some of the most obscure clues possible, and expect _that_ to defeat the most powerful dark wizard to have lived in centuries!"

By the time the Reaper finished his rant he was standing, both hands balled into fists, his knuckles resting on the desk in front of him as he leaned over, closer and closer to Harry as he finished with a bellowing shout that shook the filing cabinet against the far wall.

Harry had shrunk down in his seat again, this time in something approaching abject terror as the imposing figure loomed larger and closer with every passing second. After several long minutes where the only sound was the Reaper's loud breath as he fumed, Harry managed to find his voice.

"S-soulmate?" he asked.

The Reaper blinked and fell back into his seat, all trace of anger vanishing in an instant and he suddenly burst out laughing. "All of that," he chuckled. "Everything I just said, and _that's _the detail you fixate on?"

"W-well… I think it's a somewhat important detail," Harry tried to defend himself as he sat back up in the chair. "I mean… a soulmate? What does that even mean?"

"All right, kid. For right now, just sit back and shut up. We've got quite a lot of information to go over and it'll be easier if you save your questions 'til the end." He glowered at Harry when the teen opened his mouth, glower shifting to a smirk when his jaw snapped shut in fear.

"Good. Now pay attention, there will be a quiz later." He flipped back through the file for a moment before he stopped and placed both of his hands flat against it.

"This file, is your life," he said. "Everything of importance that has ever happened to you gets placed into this file. When I say everything of importance, I mean that specifically. There is another file, a master file, that literally documents every single second of your life, but most of that is superfluous information and has no bearing on your destiny and the steps taken toward you reaching it. So, it's summarized into _this_, much smaller file."

Harry eyed the six inch thick file, marveling over the fact that it was only a summary of the important details, and reasonably pleased that it didn't likely contain the stupid or embarrassing things that he's done in his few short years alive.

"Now, when I say that when someone dies before completing their destiny we can send them back, I don't mean that we get an unlimited number of times to do so. We can only do so twelve times and this is your twelfth death. This is your last chance, the very _last_ opportunity you'll get to get this right, and because it's your last chance, we get to bend the rules a bit.

"To start with, your destiny is boiled down to this: You are supposed to prepare yourself for Voldemort, meaning training, gathering friends and allies to help you in the fight. It's not something you can do alone, so you'll need to ditch that lonely hero shit right quick. You also need to get together with your soulmate because, while the old coot was sort of right in that love plays a part in the power you're supposed to have, it's not some special protection or anything like that. Without your soulmate, you won't have the proper motivation to train and to improve, and beyond that, to _fight_. If you have your soulmate waiting for you, or even fighting with you, you humans have proven time and time again that you will fight harder than ever to protect her and the life that the two of you could have together."

Harry had to nod his head at that. If he'd had something more solid and tangible to fight for… he might have done better. He would have fought harder. If only she hadn't-

"After beating Voldemort, you're supposed to live to a ripe old age with your wife. I won't tell you how old since I don't want to spoil the surprise, but suffice it to say you'll have plenty of time to enjoy your life and you'll die, happy, surrounded by your children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. That's the idea at least. But you keep _dying_ before you get a chance for any of that to _happen_." He looked down at the open file.

"Pushed down a flight of stairs by your cousin when you were five. Neck broken by your uncle when you were nine. Killed by the Whomping Willow when you were twelve. Mauled by a werewolf at thirteen… Honestly I'm amazed the acromantula and the basilisk didn't kill you but you either got lucky or did a damn good job in those circumstances. Suffice it to say, most of your deaths have been pretty stupid things to have happened and should have been avoidable. You'll need to be a lot more careful, you'll need to simply be _better_ than you have been in the past. Do you understand everything so far?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I… I think so… but, why are you telling me this? You talked about memory wipes. I'm not going to remember any of this when you send me back. And what does it matter even if I could? I'm in the middle of the fight with Voldemort. You already said I can't beat him and I won't be able to just escape and leave everyone else to die so I can train for who knows how long."

"That's part of what we can do differently this time around since it's your final shot. First, you'll be able to keep your memories." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a small stack of papers that he dropped onto the desk next to the open file. "Second, we're going to send you back a lot further than we have before. You've racked up quite a lot of karmic good will with what you've done and Karma owes you one, so she's going to use that capital so that we can drop you back in your life at a point where you'll be able to do some real good, before everything went completely down the crapper."

The more the Reaper talked, the more optimistic Harry began to feel. Going back in time and keeping his memories? That could be a really good chance, just what he needs to get things done properly. Depending on when they send him. Fifth year? Fourth? Maybe even third year? He could get Sirius free if he stopped that damn rat from getting away.

"Wh- who is my soulmate? And again, what does that really mean?"

"A soulmate is pretty much what it sounds like. One person perfectly matched to you, and you to her. Now it's not like those silly Soul Bonds you hear of. Kissing her won't have you instantly married and emancipated or any of that. But getting together will mean that you'll have someone in your corner, always. Someone who will stand by you, push you, motivate you. Someone who will honestly care for and love you for _you_, and nothing else."

"That sounds great," Harry admitted, attempting to push back thoughts of a girl that he'd once felt exemplified everything the Reaper just said. "So, who is she?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful. "Do I already know her?"

"Do you… of course you know her! Known that girl for years. What was her name?" He started paging through the file again looking for the name as he muttered to himself. "Honestly, I don't know why you two kids weren't already together, I mean, you only lived together for months. You went to school together and have been best friends your entire school life. What was her name… some Granger girl, I think… Aha! I was right. Soulmate: Hermione J. Granger."

#####

The Reaper looked up from the open file, a wide, beaming smile on his face, expecting to see joy, elation, maybe surprise. What he did _not_ expect was the completely and utterly dejected air the kid was giving off at the revelation of who his soulmate was.

"Uhh…"

"You've made a mistake," the kid muttered sadly.

"Hey, we don't make mistakes around here. We might not always have all the information right away, but we don't make mistakes. What's your problem, kid? This is good news. Now you'll get a chance to do things right."

"Except Hermione isn't my soulmate. She can't be."

"She can, and she is."

"NO! No, she's not!"

The Reaper actually leaned back in his chair at the outburst from the teen in front of him, completely confused. What was going on here? "What are you talking about? You didn't even know what a soulmate was a few minutes ago. What makes you think you can claim to know more than we do on this matter? The two of you have been meant for each other since your souls both still resided in the Aether, before either of you were even born."

Harry remained silent, the anger that had sparked in his green eyes gone, leaving them dull and lifeless as he stared at the desk in front of him, not really appearing to even be seeing it in whatever stupor he'd fallen into.

"It's just not possible. Hermione doesn't want me."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Shouldn't you know?" Harry asked, a little spark of anger igniting back up as he eyed the open file.

"Look, I don't know every single minute of your life, kid. I do have other clients and other things to do, so why don't you just explain it to me so we can get moving on this?"

The kid let out a sigh, slumping down in his chair for a moment. "You're right… Hermione and me… we have been best friends since I saved her from that troll in first year. She's always stood by me, even when I was being an idiot. She's never turned her back on me, except in sixth year, and even then she didn't turn her back we were… we were just at odds, for some reason.

"During the hunt… after Ron left… it was just us, me and her. I've… I've been in love with her for… I don't even know how long. She… she's just perfect, you know?" He looked up, almost pleadingly at the Reaper and the large man tried to keep a sympathetic expression on his face. In truth, he _didn't_ know. Reapers didn't have emotions like that. They weren't made to love, so he simply gave an understanding nod and waited for the kid to continue.

"Anyway, after Ron left she was so upset and things were so difficult. It was cold, we were hungry, and tired, and frustrated…. One night, this song came on the wireless and… I just wanted to cheer her up. I just wanted to see her smile. So, I asked her to dance with me, and for a little while it seemed to work. She actually smiled and she seemed less… worn down, I suppose. I couldn't help myself. I was just so happy that she wasn't crying anymore, and that she seemed happy, that I kissed her."

"Well, there ya go. That should've been it. The spark that would have told her you were the right one for her."

Harry shook his head, messy black hair flying wildly about. "No. At first… at first she kissed me back, but then she pushed me away. Not hard, I mean, she was gentle about rejecting me. But when she pushed me back she had this look on her face. It was like she'd just bitten into something nasty that left a bad taste in her mouth. She tried to hide it, but I saw. She told me she loved me, but there was just no way she could be _with_ me."

The Reaper frowned, something about the story disturbing him greatly. "That's not right," he muttered. "She _is_ your soulmate. There would have to be something very powerful at work to keep two soulmates from coming together." He thought for a moment longer before he suddenly lurched to his feet. "Hang on a second," he said as he moved around the desk and over to the door, yanking it open.

"Maria!" he bellowed. "I need the file for-"

"Granger. Hermione J.?" Maria said, cutting him off as she appeared with a file in hand.

"Oh… thank you," he said, taking the file. "Which Reaper did you get this from?"

"Reaper."

"Reaper?"

"No, not that Reaper. Reaper."

"Oh, _that_ Reaper. Okay, I'll make sure she gets this back when I'm done with it."

Maria nodded and walked away as the Reaper closed the door and returned to his desk, already paging through the two inch thick file.

"Doesn't that get confusing?"

"Huh?" Reaper looked up from the file, blinking a few times in surprise at the kid who was watching him in a bemused sort of way.

"That," he said, jerking his head toward the door. "That you're all called Reaper. Doesn't that get confusing?"

Reaper rolled his eyes. "You have absolutely no idea, kid." He paused and looked around for a moment before he leaned forward. "To be perfectly honest," he said in a loud whisper. "I'm not completely sure which Reaper she belongs to. But don't you worry about it, the office issues of the after life are none of your concern. I'll make sure this file gets back to the appropriate Reaper… eventually."

With that said he turned back to the file and flipped through several more pages. "Ah, here it is. Hermione J. Granger, soulmate: Harry J. Potter." He frowned and flipped back to the very first page. "Let's see… parents... age: 18. Sex: Female… Aha!" he suddenly burst out, stabbing a thick finger at the page in front of him as he looked up to smile at the boy sitting across the desk. "Here's the problem. The reason Miss Granger couldn't be with you is that she's a lesbian."

#####

Harry gaped at the man, wondering just what he could possibly be so happy about. "She's… she's a lesbian?" he stuttered.

"Yeah… uh… you _do_ know what a lesbian is, right?"

"Of course I know what a lesbian is," Harry snapped, glaring angrily at the Reaper. "But if that's right then how could we possibly be soulmates? I never had a chance. There's no way in hell that she'd ever be with me. No wonder she shot me down. Kissing me must have been disgusting to her, even if she was too nice to say it."

The Reaper hummed thoughtfully, staring down at the files on his desk in apparent confusion. "That's a good point. And it doesn't make any sense whatsoever. You two _are_ soulmates. That's for sure, so why isn't she straight? Or at least bi? Or…" He trailed off for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he considered the situation before he suddenly moved, startling Harry with how abrupt the action was. He shoved Hermione's file to the side, so much that it slid right off the end of his desk to land on the floor with a loud 'SMACK' and started frantically flipping through Harry's file again.

Finally, he turned to the first page and started reading, muttering to himself as he went.

"Parents: James C. Potter and Lily J. Potter. Age: 17. Sex:…"

He stopped again, staring at the page in front of him for a moment before looking up at Harry. His eyes darted back and forth several times before he frantically flipped through several more pages, eyes moving rapidly across across the page before he suddenly leaned back and leaped from his seat.

"It all makes sense!" he burst out as he started moving about the office. He opened drawers, looked through cabinets, even pulled open another door that Harry hadn't noticed that led into a large closet and started rummaging around inside. "It all makes sense," he repeated. "There is no way that two soulmates would be kept from each other the way you two were, especially after spending so much time together, unless something really powerful was at work interfering with things. Granger _is_ your soulmate, and you're gonna get her. Oh, yes you will. We just need to do something to change you back. That's the problem. _That's_ what's been interfering with y-"

"What? What are you on about, man? Change me back? To what?"

The Reaper, practically manic as he tore through his office, suddenly stopped dead and slowly turned to face him.

"Crap," the being said, his handsome face morphing into a look of consternation. "You don't know. Of course you don't, otherwise this wouldn't have been as big a problem."

"Know what?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously but the Reaper didn't seem to hear him, apparently having decided to settle into some kind of panic attack, gradually making his way back toward his desk as he muttered quietly to himself.

"Of course you don't know. Why would you? Meddling old alchemist busy bodies that can't keep their crooked noses out of other people's lives-"

"What the hell are you talking about!"

The Reaper paused at Harry's outburst and slowly turned to face him again, unnaturally still after the frantic motion of just seconds ago.

"That senile, old goat… he had the best of intentions really. It's just… good intentioned or not, he was simply _wrong_ and, while what he did might have saved you from some fairly horrifying things… in the end, it's why you've been doomed to fail."

_Because that's not foreboding at all,_ Harry thought as a shiver ran up his spine. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What did Dumbledore do that was so terrible?"

The Reaper sighed and sank into the leather chair behind his desk again. He leaned forward, piercing blue eyes regarding Harry with the kind of solemnity usually reserved for funerals and memorials as he paraphrased something that Hagrid had once said to him on his eleventh birthday:

"You're a witch, Harry."

Harry stared at the man, confusion and bewilderment flooding his body before he suddenly leapt up and snatched his file off of the broad desk, pulling it toward him to scan the page.

**Sex: Female.**

Harry stared at the page for several silent moments before slowly lifting his head to stare at the Reaper, his face clearly showing the shock he felt. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to the floor of the cluttered office in a dead faint.

Slowly, the Reaper stood and leaned over the desk, looking down at the unconscious form of his client for a moment, a considering expression on his face.

"Huh... I think that went well."

#####

Harry woke slowly, clawing his way to consciousness with great difficulty as the pull of oblivion threatened to drag him back down into-

"You done with your little fainting jag so we can get on with this?"

At first, Harry said nothing to respond to the Reaper's voice. Then…

"Ugh."

"Excellent! Now pay attention-"

"Wha- what happened?"

The Reaper sighed. "You fainted, Harry. But we really can't waste any more time. You need to get up and deal with this so we can move on."

Harry's eyes suddenly snapped open and he sat bolt upright, looking about wildly for a moment until his eyes focused on the large man sitting behind the desk.

"Oh. Fuck. It wasn't a dream?"

The Reaper shrugged his massive shoulders. "Sorry, kid. Reality bites."

Harry turned on the couch he found himself lying on and put his feet on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees so he could drop his head into his hands with a groan.

"That has to be a mistake," he finally said after first spending several minutes taking deep, calming breaths that did absolutely nothing to actually calm him.

"It isn't."

"It _has_ to be! Look at me!" He stood, arms held out wide to his sides. "I'm a guy! I've always been a guy! There is no way-"

"For the first fifteen months of your life, Harry, you were a girl. Then the old man interfered."

Harry simply stared at him for a moment before he moved over to sit in the chair before the desk while the couch vanished behind him.

"Why do you keep calling me Harry if I'm supposedly a girl?" Harry tried to argue. "Harry is a boy's name."

"It's also an acceptable shortening of your real name. That was part of the confusion that we had here, not realizing the truth of your birth gender. You are still Harry J. Potter, even as a girl." The Reaper pulled the file toward him again and looked down at it.

"According to your file, you were born Harleen Janine Potter, the _daughter_ of James and Lily Potter. When your parents were attacked on Halloween night, 1981, Dumbledore went to some extreme measures to try to protect you."

"Like what?"

"First, the blood wards around your relatives' house. Those took a bit of time to set up and they actually _did_ save you from several attempts on your life over the years."

Harry blinked in surprise. He honestly hadn't expected that.

"Of course, after your fourth year, when Voldemort took your blood to resurrect himself, they became next to useless. No idea why he didn't attack you anytime after that during the summers when you were vulnerable, but luckily he didn't.

"The second thing that Dumbledore did was changing you into a boy."

"How was that supposed to protect me? If it's true, I'm still not sure I believe this whole story."

"Assuming it is true, how do you think a girl would have been treated in that house? Especially when your cousin got older… as _you_ started to… develop?"

Harry's complexion paled dramatically as he considered some of what he'd heard Dudley say about various women over the years.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Swallow it. We don't have time."

"You keep saying that. What's the rush?"

"You're dead. The karmic capital that you've accumulated fades the longer you stand here. The more you lose, the less we have to send you back with. When you got here we could have sent you back to the middle of your third year. Now? Now we're looking at somewhere closer to the World Cup."

_That _bit of information Harry was able to sum up with a single word.

"Fuck."

"Quite, now quit arguing with me and listen."

Harry sighed and nodded to the man to continue.

"Anyway, Dumbledore knew that you'd have a hard time at the Dursleys, but he really didn't have a lot of options on where to place you. None that would have kept you as safe from magical attack, at least. But he made you into a boy using some really advanced human transfiguration and some potions enhanced with Alchemy. He figured that would keep you as safe as possible while you were there, and then he hid the knowledge that you were born female under a modified version of the Fidelius. Only he knows the truth. Where he most screwed up was in not telling you about it when you came to Hogwarts."

"Just telling me? Not reversing it?"

"You were still going back to the Dursleys during the summer. How would they have reacted to a female you showing up? Besides, there are other issues with you being female that have to do with the Wizarding World. It's a male dominated society, Harry. An orphaned heiress to one of the most powerful Houses in their society would be a ripe target for some of the purebloods out there. They'd want to trap you into a marriage contract or something like that. When you go back, you'll have to learn to maneuver amongst the politicians quickly, otherwise they'll start working against you, just because you're a woman."

"Whoa.. hold up… I'm not going back as a woman," Harry blurted out, eyes wide and both hands held out in front of him in a stopping gesture.

The Reaper frowned. "Why not? If you want to be with your soul mate, hell if you want to be at full strength, you need to. The transformation sustains itself by feeding off of your magic. It probably uses at least a quarter of what you have available in order to keep you in that form."

"I still don't believe you, and I'm not going to let you change me into something I'm not just because you seem to think that's what I should be."

The Reaper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a few seconds as if attempting to quell a growing headache. Harry almost grinned at the idea that that headache probably had _his_ name written all over it.

"Do you think there is something wrong with being a girl, or a woman, Harry?" the Reaper suddenly asked causing Harry to start in surprise.

"No, not at all."

"Then why are you so set against returning to your true form?"

"Because I don't know that I'm actually supposed to be a girl. I'm not positive it's true. And… well _if_ it is… I don't know _how_ to be a girl," he nearly whined at the last. "I've been a boy my entire life, as far as I can remember. There's… there's things I don't know that others would have learned growing up. Things that other people know that they don't even think about, it's just normal for them. How am I… how could I adjust to that?"

The Reaper nodded, humming thoughtfully. "Not a bad set of concerns, honestly. Not irrational or dumb by any means. But let me put this to you. When you go back, if you're really a girl and return to that shape, do you honestly think your best friend, your actual _soulmate_, wouldn't help you? Do you think she wouldn't do her best to make sure you learned what you needed to know? And if you're worried about looking foolish… well, just act as you want to act and don't give a damn what people think. Dress as a boy if you want. No one is saying you need to start picking out dresses and lingerie or something."

The Reaper ignored the brilliant flush staining Harry's cheeks as he finished talking and closed the file before he pulled over the stack of parchment he'd removed from the desk drawer earlier.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to go back, as far as we can get you. You're going to be a girl. You're going to get together with your soulmate. You're going to cultivate friendships and find allies outside of Gryffindor and build yourself some support. Look in Slytherin too, they're not all bad eggs, you just need to find them. You're going to train and you're going to get better. You know where the Horcruxes are now, and you know how to destroy them so you should be able to handle that easily."

"That's it? You're not going to tell me how to do any of that?"

"Can't. It's _your_ destiny, Harry. All we can do is point you in the right direction."

Harry grumbled quietly under his breath then pointed at the stack of papers. "What's that?"

"This is a contract, basically stating that you understand that you're going back in time and that this is your last chance to get things right. If you fail, I'm going to end up getting fired and both of us will not be happy about it." He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. "Trust me, you don't want to know. This contract also stipulates that you will not tell _anyone_ what you know of the future or the after life. The _only_ exception is your soulmate. You can let her know that you have knowledge of the future, but you can't tell her how until after Voldemort is dead. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded. "So… I can let Hermione know that I know what's coming, but I can't tell her that I died and got sent back in time by my Reaper?"

"That's the gist of it."

"Then yeah, I understand. Except I'm still not going to be a girl."

The Reaper threw his hands in the air. "Dammit, kid… You're really becoming a problem, you know that, right?"

"I don't care. I'm not doing it."

"Look, you want to beat Voldemort, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"And you want to be with Hermione, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"And you want to actually live to see old age with the woman you love? You _do_ love her, don't you?"

"Of course I do! But-"

"Then it's past time to man up, Potter, and grow a pair… of breasts."

Harry could only gape at the man in shock.

"Bottom line, kid, you're handicapped in that form. Your magic is restrained and you can't fight at your full strength. You _need_ to be at full power and you _need_ to have your soulmate. Without either you are absolutely doomed to fail. Even with them it won't be easy, but you've got a better chance-"

"Fine! Fine, you win. But I want your promise that you're not changing me into something I never was. I want a binding oath or something, because I swear, if I find out this is all some screw up and you ruin my life because of your incompetence, I will make sure the rest of your existence is a living hell. I don't know how, but I'll find a way."

Of all the possible reactions Harry could have expected to his threat, a large, tooth filled grin was not one of them.

"That's good," the Reaper said, still grinning broadly. "That's the kind of fire you're going to need when you deal with those idiots that pretend they're leading the Wizarding World. You can't be meek and mild like you have been. Take the bull by the horns and show them they can't fuck with you. And, if it'll make you feel better, I won't change you back."

Harry paused in the act of reaching for the contract to gape at the man. "Wha… you're just going to leave it? After that whole argument?"

"Not exactly. I'm going to adjust an object that you're going to encounter. I'll make it so that it will strip away any magic that's been placed on you. Potions, compulsions, glamours, anything. _If_ you really are male, nothing will happen. But if you're wrong, and you _were_ born a girl, then this false form of yours will be taken away and you'll be returned to how you're supposed to be. Sound fair?"

Harry considered that for a moment before nodding. "Yeah… I think I can agree with that."

"Good, then start reading so you can sign that contract and we can get going on this, we're edging past the first week of your fourth year, now."

Nodding again, Harry settled in to read. Luckily, though the stack was a good inch thick, it wasn't exactly complicated and stated precisely what the Reaper had said it did. If everything he'd said was right, and Hermione really _was_ his soulmate… he didn't like the idea of lying to her about everything. How was he supposed to convince her he knew some things without telling her how? He'd have to think on that once he was back.

Within half an hour from starting he'd finished reading the contract and signed each page where it was required, using a pen supplied by the Reaper. Once the last page had his signature on it he stacked everything together and handed it back.

"All right, kid. This is it for us. You know what to do right?"

Harry nodded, nervous apprehension filling him. "You've given me a list of points to check off with no idea how to go about most of them. Yeah, I'm _weellll _prepared."

"Drop the attitude, kid," the Reaper snarked, glowering at him but with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I told you, we can only point you in the right direction, the choices are still yours to make. Though I'd also recommend finding a way out from under the old coot's thumb. Again, he's got the best of intentions, but he's been blinded by his own fame and reputation. He'd be a powerful ally to have, but not if he's just treating you like another pawn on his chessboard. And make sure you work on your Occlumency. File says Hermione taught you a lot during your scavenger hunt, but you still need work."

"Just add to the pile why don't you?" Harry grumbled under his breath.

"Yeah, yeah. Train your ass off, kid. Do everything you can think of to win this. But don't forget to live a little either, all right?"

"Hey, can I ask a quick question?"

"You just did, but go ahead and ask another one."

"Who was that Jeanne girl you mentioned before?"

The Reaper blinked and gaped at him for a moment before he seemed to shake himself. "You know what? Here's something else for you to do. Figure out a way to get rid of Binns. He's clearly fucking up everyone's education if you've never heard of Jeanne D'Arc."

Before Harry could respond the Reaper lifted his arms and clapped his massive hands together once. A bright flash of white light filled the room, followed by blackness, and Harry Potter knew no more.


	2. Hello, 1994

**Author's notes: Well, a pretty decent level of interest apparently. Nice that you guys have found this story worth checking out at the very least and to those reviewers thank you for your kind words and I do hope this little work here lives up to your expectations. I hadn't planned on uploading this second chapter so soon, of course I hadn't planned on publishing at all yet so I guess it doesn't matter really, but I really felt I should get the second chapter to give you guys a little hint of how things are going to go once we get into the main body of the story. That first chapter was really more of a prologue than almost anything else and this one is relatively short. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. *shrugs***

**Here's chapter two of A Fair Life, hope you all enjoy.**

A Fair Life

Hello, 1994

by,

Rtnwriter

Green eyes snapped open as a young teen sucked in a deep, panicked breath. He sat up sharply in the middle of his large, four poster bed, head swinging wildly back and forth, yet his eyes taking in nothing but the closed curtains that surrounded him for several moments.

He spun in the bed, scrabbling around frantically until he suddenly lunged to the side and reached through the curtains, snatching his wand from the nightstand with a muttered curse.

"Why the bloody hell was my wand out there?" he muttered as he silently lit the tip, instantly brightening the interior of his bed. In the months that they'd spent on the run, he, Ron, and Hermione had all taken to keeping their wands close to hand. A week ago he would never have left his wand that far out of his reach.

"But it's not a week ago, is it?" he said, elation flooding through him. He brandished his wand, quickly casting a charm to show him the time and the date.

October 31st, 1994. 4:45 a.m.

"It's almost four _years_ ago!"

Banishing the hovering words and numbers before him, Harry leaped out of bed, practically tearing down the hangings in his haste. He was in the dorms in Gryffindor Tower. He hadn't seen it in well over a year, but he was immediately struck with a sense of familiarity. Ron's snoring, coming from the bed next to his, was easily identifiable amongst the other sounds caused by a room full of sleeping teens.

Harry paused, his eyes lingering on the bed that he knew contained the first friend he'd ever made his own age. He honestly wasn't sure what to think of Ronald Weasley at this particular point in time. _He never came back,_ he thought. _He left us during the hunt and he never came back._ That should have been it, but there were lingering doubts. Maybe Ron _couldn't_ come back for one reason or another. Maybe he'd been captured by the Snatchers. Whatever happened, Harry knew that Ron left, and that was the last they'd seen of him. He and Hermione had carried on the search on their own.

He shook his head suddenly in an attempt to banish those thoughts. _I've more important things to be worrying about right now,_ he thought before he turned and rushed silently across the dorm to the window and looked out, cursing quietly under his breath when he realized that they faced the wrong direction. Turning, he moved over to the door and slipped out into the hall, moving quickly down the stairs to the Common Room. Once his foot left the last step he was off like a shot to the tall windows on the far side and peered out into the early morning gloom.

He could just make out the lanterns on the ship that was floating on the placid surface of the Black Lake and a giant carriage sitting on the grounds a ways back from the lake shore.

"It's real," he gasped. "It wasn't a dream, that really happened." His mind drifted over his memories. Fourth year. Fifth Year. Sixth. The Hunt… "There's no way I dreamed or imagined nearly four years worth of memories," he muttered. "I've really gone back in time, _again_."

A few moments later his eyes suddenly widened and he swung away from the window toward the rest of the room and, more importantly, the fire burning in the fireplace across the room. With that warm light now on him he looked down, rapidly patting his chest several times with both hands.

"I'm still a guy. That's good... right? Doesn't that mean I'm not… wait… Reaper said I'd encounter an object… oh shiiiit… that's right, fourth year. Damn Goblet of Fire. Seriously? I can't, you know, _avoid_ the whole deadly tournament and trap at the end of the year?" he whined to the empty room.

"Harry?"

He froze, eyes sliding shut as a flood of memories that had largely been kept at bay in… that other place, the 'Waystation' as the Reaper had called it, suddenly assailed him. It was almost fitting, that the first person he would actually see after coming back would be her.

_When did I see her last?_ he wondered, eyes still closed and praying that if he didn't respond then maybe she really wouldn't be there. It'd been during the battle, he thought. He'd caught glimpses of her through the smoke and the chaos. Graceful as she'd ever been, spinning and ducking her way through a deadly web of brightly colored curses and hexes as she returned fire with a brutal efficiency and creativity. He thought that the very last glimpse he'd had of her before he'd crossed wands with Voldemort had been her squaring off against Bellatrix Lestrange.

That mad bitch had taunted her, toyed with her, and that had been her mistake. Hermione Granger didn't waste words responding to the taunts. She didn't waste time playing games. She struck hard and fast, a veritable rain of spells flying from her wand to fall upon the demented Death Eater. He didn't see the end of the fight, caught up in his own struggle, but he had every faith that Hermione, _his_ Hermione, would have come out on top.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Her voice was closer now and he shuddered, unwilling or unable to open his eyes, he honestly wasn't sure which anymore. He wanted to see her. Desperately. But he wasn't certain he'd be able to hide how he felt, and he knew that if the Reaper was right, if he _wasn't_ just mad and had dreamed the whole thing, he knew he wouldn't see those feelings returned and that would cut him deeply.

A cool hand touched his bare shoulder and a moment later she let out a startled squeak as his body moved almost without him willing it, his arms coming up to wrap around her as he pulled her into a bone crushing embrace.

"It's okay," she whispered in his ear, his face buried in her long, unruly curls."Whatever it is, Harry, it's okay. You're okay."

He didn't know how long they stood there but the entire time she kept up a constant stream of soothing words in his ear, her own arms wrapped around him, one hand stroking the back of his neck.

"Sorry," he muttered, finally loosening his grip on her and pulling back. When his eyes opened, he had himself under much better control and he was reasonably certain that he'd been able to hold back the true feelings that he held for the witch in front of him.

That first sight of her was like a blow to his chest. _Gods, she looks so young!_ he couldn't help but think right before mentally slapping himself. _Of course she does, she _is_ young, not that either of you had managed to get old in the first place… but still, she's only fifteen now._

"It's fine," she assured him, giving him a small smile that just revealed her slightly larger front teeth. _Right, she shrinks them a bit this year,_ he remembered.

Her skin still held remnants of her summer tan, her brown hair flecked with blond highlights from her time spent in the sun. It was the eyes that drew him in however. Warm cinnamon brown eyes that radiated care and concern and, now that he knew to look for it, love. He could see the love she felt for him and knowing why things had never progressed, or at least a version of why… he honestly couldn't say that he was entirely against the idea of being a girl anymore. Not if it helped him keep this wonderful witch by his side. Her side?

Harry shook his head. He was male at the moment, so he'd continue to think of himself that way. Until he learned otherwise. _Course, that should be in about fifteen hours or so_.

"What is it?" she asked, drawing his attention out of his thoughts and back to her. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head again. "Nothing," he croaked and then cleared his throat. "Sorry. It's nothing, really," he said again and she immediately frowned.

"It's not nothing, Harry," she admonished him. "Not that I'm complaining, but you've _never_ initiated physical contact with someone like this before. So I can reasonably guess that something really upset you for you to actively seek out comfort that way."

He fidgeted for a moment, trying to decide what to tell her. What _could_ he tell her. As far as he knew horrible things would happen if he told her the truth, that is if what he thought was happening was real. _Okay, that's just thinking your way in circles,_ he thought. _For now, assume it's true until you have proof otherwise, just to be on the safe side._

So if he couldn't tell her about dying and his Reaper and everything else… he was left with revealing he had knowledge of the future. Knowledge that he had no way to explain to her without her probably thinking he was crazy.

"Harry?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice again and his eyes flicked to her, focusing on her to the exclusion of everything else.

"I just… I had a weird dream," he finally said.

She paled, looking suddenly quite frightened. "Was it about…" She trailed off, eyeing him questioningly for a moment as he tried to figure out what she was talking about when it suddenly clicked. Fourth year was when he first started getting those visions of the Dark Tosser!

"Oh! No, nothing like that," he said with a pronounced wince, remembering how frightened she'd been when he'd told her and Ron about the vision he'd had during the summer. "No, this wasn't scary and painful like that was… it was… well, kind of unsettling, but confusing more than anything else really."

"It must have been for you to come down here like that," she said in a much calmer tone, a slight twitching at the corners of her full lips, as if she were trying not to smirk.

He gave her a blank look, easily mirroring the blank he was mentally drawing as he tried to figure out her meaning when she tilted her head down slightly, her eyes traveling down his front.

His eyes followed the path hers took and he glanced down at his body, realizing, belatedly, that he'd been in such a rush after waking up that he was only wearing a pair of boxers and a Gryffindor red tank top, exposing quite a bit more of his body than he was usually comfortable with.

In seconds flat he was blushing furiously and he started edging carefully toward the stairs.

"Uh… yeah I-I'm just gonna g-go… yeah."

Hermione burst out laughing when he suddenly bolted for the stairs, pelting up them as fast as he could and nearly flying into his dorm, remembering only at the last second not to slam the door shut. In the darkness of the dorm he quietly berated himself for his stunning lack of thought and took his time gathering together his clothes for the day, since it was highly unlikely that he'd be able to get back to sleep at this point.

By the time he made his way back downstairs, dressed in his school uniform, minus his robes, he found Hermione sitting on the small sofa near the fireplace, still giggling into her hand.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he growled, but he couldn't maintain even a pretense of anger as he was certain that her laughter was easily the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

_Yeah, you're done for, Potter._

He sighed and dropped heavily onto the sofa beside her, poking her repeatedly in the side with one finger as she giggled and attempted to squirm her way out of his reach.

Finally, they settled and sat back, leaning against each other in that easy manner that Harry had never really thought much on before but now noticed as if there were glaring arrows pointing it out to him. It'd taken so long, last time around, for him to realize what it was that he felt for her. He guessed he had an excuse, having never been shown an honest, loving relationship, or any kind of real affection, when he was growing up.

Still, he'd felt monumentally stupid when it had struck him one day in his sixth year that he was completely in love with his best friend and it appeared as if there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it. And if the Reaper was to be believed, there never had been. Not until now.

"So, what was this disturbing dream about?" she asked after several minutes of companionable silence had ticked past them. Harry groaned and slumped down slightly in his spot so he could rest his head on her shoulder, to which she giggled again.

"Do I have to?" he whined.

"Yes, Harry. You can't honestly imagine that I'm going to let my best friend suffer without even trying to help, can you?"

"What help can you offer?" he asked, honestly curious. "I mean, it happened in _my_ head, and it's over now, so what difference does it make?"

"Talking about it might help make it seem less… strange, I guess, since you said it wasn't scary per se. And sharing a burden always makes it lighter and easier to carry."

"Not exactly a burden," he mumbled, wondering what he could possibly say. She was right, there was no way she wouldn't try to help, and if he said nothing she would be hurt, as well as she'd continue to hound him until he spilled his guts. He let out a gusty sigh.

"It was just… strange," he said. "I don't really know how else to describe it." _Maybe this is the first opportunity? A chance to try and slip her some information without actually _telling_ her anything? Oh well… nothing to do but try._

"I dreamed I was in an office."

"An office?" She sounded confused. "What's so disturbing about an office?"

"It wasn't the office, it's what was said. I can't really say what though."

"So you were talking to someone in an office but you don't know what was said?"

He shrugged. "Eh… close enough, I guess. There was this giant guy, like Hagrid sized almost, on the other side of this big desk dressed in an entirely white suit and... the whole thing was really weird, and kind of surreal, but then he said…" There he trailed off, extremely unsure about the next bit that he intended to say.

"What is it, Harry?"

He sighed again and closed his eyes, taking the cowards way out as he didn't feel he wanted to see her expression. "He told me I was actually a girl."

They were silent for several long heartbeats before Hermione muttered to herself, so quietly that he almost didn't hear it, but he _did_ hear it, and a shock ran through his entire being as her words echoed in his mind:

"If only."

"What was that?" he asked, attempting to keep his tone casual. He hadn't imagined that. There had been a note of _longing_ in her voice!

"Nothing really," she replied. "I'd imagine that would be very disconcerting. Wait… is that why you were patting your chest?"

_Crap, I forgot about that._

"Ugh… yeah. Merlin, I feel stupid. It just felt so real for a moment. It all clicked in my head and suddenly I had to check that I hadn't grown anything _extra_."

_And she's back to giggling again,_ he thought as Hermione broke out into another fit of giggles at his admission.

"The idea of being a girl freaked you out that bad, huh?" she asked, her eyes dancing with mirth.

His brow furrowed into a frown as he thought over that question. If he were being honest with himself, he _had_ been freaked out when the Reaper first told him. The more time that passed, however, the more comfortable he seemed to feel with the whole idea, and he wasn't sure quite how he felt about _that_ realization.

"No. Just..." Harry shook his head, "I can't really describe it. It felt so real... If that actually happened though..." He trailed off into thoughtful silence. "I've been a boy my whole life, but who knows? Being a girl might be strange, or it might _feel_ completely natural. I mean, half the population of the planet manages just fine, right?"

He shrugged one shoulder.

"I think what most bothered me was wondering how everyone would treat me. I've already seen people around here turn on me for no reason at all, who knows how they'd behave if something like that were to happen."

_Yeah, Second year, Fourth year, Fifth year, Sixth year… I'm either villain or hero or attention seeking liar or an unstable lunatic, depending on their mood at the time._

He hadn't meant to get morose, but as he spoke his mood fell, remembering all the times the wizarding world had turned on him over the years. Hermione suddenly twisted around in her seat, her arms wrapping around him.

"In that, most unlikely scenario, in any scenario really, you know _I'll_ always be here for you. You know that, right?" she whispered emphatically into his ear, her breath washing hot against his skin.

"Of everything there is in my life, Hermione, that is the _one_ thing that I do know with absolute certainty," he replied. "I've never told you how much I appreciate how you've stood by me and everything you've done for me since we became friends. But that stops now. I've been thinking that I need to be a better friend and I intend to make sure that you know how important you are to me from now on."

"You don't need to do any-"

"Yes, I do, Hermione." Harry sat back after cutting her off to look at her, smiling softly as their eyes met. "You're amazing and you _deserve_ to feel appreciated. You're my best friend and I love you. I'm done taking you, and everything you've done for me, for granted."

Hermione's cheeks held a light dusting of pink as she stared at him, her expression shifting through a range of emotions. Elated, surprised, curious, thoughtful.

Before she could say anything else he simply pulled her into a tighter hug, steeling his resolve for what he had planned next. When he pulled back from the hug, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, letting his lips linger for just a moment against her soft skin leaving the girl stunned and gaping at him as he settled in beside her to stare into the fire.

Nothing more was said between them for some time until the sky outside the windows began to turn gray with the coming dawn and Hermione quietly excused herself to head upstairs and get herself ready for the day.

#####

As Hermione made her way down the stairs to return to the Common Room, showered and dressed, with her book bag slung over one shoulder, she felt conflicted. Her morning had barely begun and already it had been an… unusual day, to say the least. She'd woken up early, even for her, and had been possessed by a relentless desire to head downstairs where she'd discovered her best friend, apparently in the grip of some kind of panic attack.

His behavior since then had been even more unusual, first grabbing onto her the way he had… she wasn't sure that he was telling her everything about this dream he'd had, but whatever it was must have really shaken him. Even after three years of concentrated effort to chip her way through his defenses, Harry _still_ tensed whenever she hugged him, and in all that time he had _never,_ not one time, initiated contact with another person like that. Even when he'd hugged Sirius the year before it had been more hesitant, almost fearful.

Not that she was complaining, though she still had to wonder just why she was so determined to get closer to someone she could never have. _If anyone deserves some affection and honest friendship, it's Harry,_ she told herself as she reached the bottom stairs and stepped out into the Common Room. She shook aside her thoughts, and her feelings, and focused on the present, her eyes sweeping the room in search of one of the most important individuals in her world.

Harry was still sitting on the couch near the fire, or… sitting again, she should say, as he'd apparently gone up to grab his school robes and his bag before returning since she'd left earlier. His robes were folded over and draped across the back of the sofa, the sleeves of his uniform shirt were unbuttoned and rolled back to his elbows and he was hunched over a sheet of parchment laid out on the low table in front of him, quill in one hand and his eyes fixed firmly on his work as he wrote. A couple of sealed scrolls sat near his left hand, evidence that he'd been busy since she went upstairs. A splash of white caught her attention and she realized that Hedwig was perched on the opposite arm of the sofa, waiting patiently for her human to finish writing.

As she started walking toward him, he set aside his quill, cast a quick charm to dry the ink, and rolled up his current work, adding it to the other two before he turned to Hedwig and gestured for the gorgeous owl to come closer. She did so, fluttering over to land on the table in front of him and he started attaching the scrolls to her legs.

"This one goes to Madam Longbottom, this one to Gringotts, and this one goes to Madam Bones, understand girl?" he asked gently as he finished tying the last one. Hedwig barked, giving him a reproachful looking glare before she bent her head, checking for herself that her deliveries were secure.

"I'm sorry," he said, chuckling quietly. "I should know better by now than to doubt the Great Hedwig, shouldn't I?"

Hedwig barked again, bobbing her head up and down several times and he laughed louder, gently stroking the feathers on her chest for a moment before he offered her his arm. She stepped lightly onto his forearm, her talons never coming close to piercing his skin, and he carried her over to one of the windows.

"Have a good flight girl, and be safe," he told her after he opened the window. Hedwig responded by gently nipping at his fingers for a moment before she turned and spread her large wings, launching herself out into the October morning.

"Busy morning?" Hermione asked as he returned to the sofa where she'd sat to wait for him, a crooked grin on his lips as he pulled his sleeves down and buttoned the cuffs.

"A bit. Had some letters to send out." He glanced at the beat up old watch on his wrist for a second before he grabbed his robes and pulled them on. "Want to walk with me to the owlery before breakfast?" he asked.

She quirked a brow at him. "Hedwig just left," she pointed out even as she stood and gathered her bag from where she'd set it on the table. "Why go to the owlery?"

Harry grinned and pulled another letter from the inside pocket of his robes. "Need to send something to Snuffles, but Hedwig is way too noticeable. She'd be hurt and insulted if I used another owl though, so I sent her off with those others first, just so she doesn't get upset with me."

Hermione grinned. "Well, look at you, thinking ahead and everything," she teased.

"I'm working on it," he muttered and for a moment, barely the span of a heartbeat, Hermione could have sworn she saw something dark flash in his eyes. Before she could truly register it, whatever 'it' was, it vanished and he straightened up and offered her his arm, book bag slung over his opposite shoulder. "Well, m'lady, would you allow me the honor of your company for a visit to the owlery, and thence to breakfast?" he asked, grinning boyishly once again.

One brow arched at his mercurial shift in mood, Hermione slowly took the proffered arm, lightly looping her arm through his. "I would be delighted, kind Sir," she said, keeping her tone light as Harry led her from the Tower and out into the castle proper.

_Something is different about you today, Harry Potter,_ she thought, eyeing him carefully as he struck up a conversation about the two foreign schools that had arrived the night before. _Something is different, and you're trying to hide it, but I know you better than anyone: don't think I won't figure it out._

Once in the owlery, Harry quickly found a nondescript brown owl and attached his letter, sending the owl off in short order before leading her back down into the castle. As they neared the Grand Staircase after leaving the owlery he suddenly paused, mid-sentence, and turned to face her as they walked. "Hermione?" he asked.

"Hmmm? What is it, Harry?"

"I was just wondering, what were you doing down in the Common Room so early?"

"Oh." Hermione paused for a moment, frowning in thought. "I don't know. I woke up and… I just felt like you needed me." She shrugged, confused by the sensation that had gripped her but unable to properly explain it.

He seemed to consider that for a moment before he shrugged and let it go, launching instead into questioning her about her elective classes. She breathed a silent sigh of relief that he dropped the topic so easily and let herself get lost in explaining the intricacies of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

When they entered the Great Hall, Hermione started immediately toward the Gryffindor table, but came up short when Harry tugged her toward the Hufflepuffs instead. "Come on," he said.

"Harry?" she asked, slightly nervously as they neared the table.

"Don't worry," he responded, crooked grin firmly in place on his lips. "Hey, Cedric! Mind if we sit?"

Harry immediately directed her into a seat without waiting for the startled Hufflepuff to respond. He then dropped into the seat next to her, directly across from the older, Hufflepuff Seeker, where he then started filling both their plates.

"Hey! You guys have fresh fruit over here!" Harry exclaimed as he snagged a bowl filled with sliced peaches and dished up a spoonful for Hermione and himself. "Why don't we ever have fruit over at the Gryffindor table?"

_That's a good question,_ Hermione thought as she looked down at a plate filled with her favorite breakfast items. She couldn't help but wonder just how he knew exactly what to serve her.

"Harry?" Cedric asked, waiting for Harry to look up, a questioning look on the fourth year's face as he chewed a peach slice. "Umm… not that it isn't great to see you, and you too, Hermione, but… what are you doing here?"

Harry lifted one finger to signal he would be a moment, chewed a few more times, then swallowed before he opened his mouth. "I'd think it would be fairly obvious, Cedric," he said, grinning brightly, "we're having breakfast."

"Well, yes, I can _see_ that. But… why are you doing it _here_?"

Harry shrugged, "Figured I'd kill two birds with one spell. Have breakfast, and try to make some friends outside of my House." He speared another peach slice with his fork and gestured with the piece of fruit. "I've been thinking lately. It seems silly to me that I've been here for three years, and I'm honestly not certain that I could _name_ everyone in my year group. There's three other Houses at this school and I've been limiting myself to only interacting regularly with the people from my House." He popped the fruit into his mouth and chewed quickly before he set his fork down and leaned forward, his arms crossed in front of him on the table as he swallowed.

"I'll be honest, Cedric. I… well I didn't exactly have a lot of friends before coming here. I had zero friends, actually. And while I love the friends I have in Gryffindor, I can't say that I have so _many_ friends that I don't need any more. I don't feel like I can just do without making any new friends." He gestured with one hand, a motion that took in the entirety of the Hufflepuff Table, and all the students already seated there.

"All these other students here, and you, Hannah over there, Ernie, and Justin are the only Hufflepuffs I can remember directly interacting with outside of class. You I've spoken to only because of that Quidditch game last year. Hannah, Ernie, and Justin? Because of the Heir of Slytherin crap in second year. Personally, I'd like to get to know more people, and for better reasons."

Hermione wasn't the only one that was staring at her friend in shock. As he'd spoken the noise around them had dropped off as more and more people started to take note of the lions sitting amongst the badgers. She could practically see the wheels turning in the minds of every nearby student, and a pronounced flush on Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley's faces as well. Ernie didn't seem embarrassed at all by his behavior in second year, but she remembered Harry saying he'd apologized right after she'd been petrified, so maybe that explained his lack of reaction?

_What is going on with you, Harry?_ she wondered as she watched her friend tuck into his breakfast with apparent relish, smiling broadly at everyone near them when he wasn't busy chewing.

Slowly, a new sound introduced itself and everyone's focus shifted, moving to Cedric as he started to laugh. It wasn't loud, or obnoxious, but the handsome 'Puff was very clearly, and genuinely, amused.

"You know, part of me wants to argue with you, that we should each sit at our own tables," he said, pointing at Harry with his own fork, "but honestly I can't find a single point to try to stand on. You're right. It _is_ silly to just ignore the other Houses entirely. So, from me, welcome to Hufflepuff." He stretched out his right hand across the table and Harry's grin grew broader as he grasped the offered hand in a firm shake.

"Cheers, Ced," he replied.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked, bemused as around them everyone returned to their meals and conversations started back up.

"Weren't you paying attention, Hermione?" Harry asked. "We just made some new friends."

"Harry, what has gotten into you?" she asked, stuck somewhere between wanting to grin in the face of his good cheer, and worried over just how out of character he was behaving.

"It's Halloween," he reminded her. Any desire to smile vanished as she reminded herself just what today meant to her best friend. "My parents were murdered thirteen years ago today, and not one Halloween since has been a 'good' day for me." He took the last bite of food off of his plate and chewed silently, his eyes unfocused while Hermione found herself struggling to come up with something to say in the face of what, she felt, was a monumental blunder.

Before she could say anything though, and with many a nearby ear now focused on them again, Harry finished eating and set down his fork with a sigh. Turning to face her more fully, he continued, "with how the last three years have gone, can you honestly say that I can just sit back and expect today not to have some horrific event just waiting to happen to me? Now I get it, not everything that goes wrong on Halloween is directly related to me, but I still seem to get caught up in something every year, and I'm not going to hide behind some blinders that this year is going to be any different.

"I decided I need to make some changes in my life, and this is just the start of that," he said tapping the table. "Also, I decided that I'm done letting the fact that Halloween is a terrible day for me stop me from trying to enjoy my life. So I'm going to make some new friends today," Harry waved a hand slightly to indicate Cedric, "I'm going to try and build on some old friendships that could use a little more work," he winked at her, "and I'm going to try to have a little fun between now and whatever chaos I'm positive is going to happen tonight."

He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his bag, setting one hand on her shoulder when she started to stand as well.

"Eat," he told her, smiling softly. "You haven't even touched your breakfast yet."

"But… where are you going?" she couldn't help but ask, and prayed she didn't sound as lost and out of sorts as she suddenly felt.

"Nowhere dramatic, I promise." He smiled and looked around the room for a moment before looking back at her again. "If I can, I'll meet you in the Library later, okay?"

Wordlessly she nodded and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"In the meantime, I'm gonna go see a Scot about a cat."

With that, completely unhelpful response, he stepped over the bench and walked out of the Great Hall, quickly catching up to Professor McGonagall, who was just leaving. Hermione watched as he fell into step beside their Head of House and engaged the stern professor in conversation as the two stepped out of the Hall and vanished from her view.


	3. Crouch Down

**Author's notes: So, based on the reviews, favorites, and follows, seems like you guys actually like this one, so here's another chapter for you. Updating a lot faster than I intended but oh well, the whole thing went up outside of what I intended so why not? This chapter should be lots of fun, I certainly really enjoyed parts of it and I'm looking forward to seeing what you guys all think of it. Lemme know.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. **

**Chapter Three of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Crouch Down

by,

Rtnwriter

Harry trudged his way through the halls, intent on finding lunch in the Great Hall, but his mind was nowhere near the same location as his body. His feet carried him unerringly through the castle's labyrinthine corridors while his thoughts leapt wildly about.

_What the hell were you doing, Potter?_ he wondered, finally having a moment to just breathe since he left breakfast with his Head of House.

When he and Hermione had entered the Hall for breakfast he hadn't expected the horrific rush of memories that had suddenly assaulted him as he laid eyes on people he _knew_ to be dead in the future. Cedric, killed in just a few month's time in the graveyard. While on the Hunt, they'd heard of what happened to Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. How they'd been given to the Death Eaters. How those animals had _used_ the two girls for months before leaving their bodies on display outside Gringotts in Diagon Alley.

Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie MacMillan, and Zacharias Smith… the three of them had been killed at Hogwarts while protecting some first years from the Carrows…

To drive back the sudden panic and revulsion that had threatened to overwhelm him, before anyone noticed, he'd put on the most jovial air he could and dove in head first. Being upbeat, looking at the positives, that was a much better use of his time and energies then beating himself up over something that hadn't happened, and would _never_ happen if he had anything at all to say about it.

Plans were already in motion, and Harry couldn't help but feel that Hermione would be proud of him, as well as shocked, if she knew just how proactive he was being. He had a final chance and he was determined not to waste it. He wasn't going to wait around for things to happen anymore, that way only got people killed.

_Step one: work on getting out of Dumbledore's control,_ he thought as he entered the Great Hall and sat again at the Hufflepuff table. The letters that he'd sent out that morning should hopefully get that little project started as well as bring attention to a few other things if he was lucky.

He started filling his plate. _Step two: do and _be_ better than you were before._ His talk with Professor McGonagall should get that started as well, it was at least a step in the right direction, and if he lost Ron as a friend due to what he intended… well, maybe that was for the best? A bit of distance from him could only benefit the Weasleys.

_Step three:..._

He paused in the midst of chewing on a piece of chicken, his mind grinding to a halt.

"Hell, I don't even know what step three is supposed to be," he muttered irritably to himself. There were too many things that he needed to do, too many questions. Barty Junior was running around disguised as Moody. Did he unmask him, somehow, or let that wait until the end of the year? Did he avoid the graveyard or let Voldemort be resurrected? It _was_ rather difficult to kill something that didn't have a body, so maybe the Dark Tosser _needed_ to get back into a body? Could he start getting his hands on the other horcruxes?

Well that part was easy, he realized, a bolt of shock running through his body as the thought occurred to him. One of the horcruxes was here, at the school. He could get it and hide it somewhere else, or maybe take it down into the Chamber and use one of the basilisk fangs to destroy it?

_That has possibilities,_ he thought, and should probably be moved up his to-do list. Then there was the situation with Hermione… If she really was his soulmate… damn, what was he supposed to do? He'd already promised not to take her for granted anymore, and he couldn't just assume anything in regards to her. He would absolutely _not_ risk screwing anything up when it came to Hermione Gran-

"What're you doin' over here, Mate?"

Harry bit back a groan at the sound of Ron's voice and turned slightly in his seat to look at his one time friend. Possibly still a friend? _Gah, this is all so damned confusing!_

"I'd have thought that you would recognize what I'm doing better than anyone," he said, grinning at Hermione where she was standing next to the gangly redhead. "I'm eating lunch. You know, _food_? The act of consuming things that can be consumed?"

Ron blinked and Hermione covered a small smile with her hand while she attempted to glare at Harry.

"Stop picking on him, Harry," she admonished him as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Yes, dear," Harry shot back, winking cheekily at her as her cheeks darkened with a truly adorable blush.

"Huh?" Ron asked, plaintively, seeming more confused with every passing second.

"We're eating lunch, Ron," Harry told him, his attention back on his plate. "Either sit down or go away, but make up your mind would you, Mate?"

He practically had to force himself to refer to Ron as his 'mate', but he decided that whatever issues he had with the youngest Weasley male could wait, for now. He needed to see if maybe Ron could actually be a decent friend before completely abandoning the other boy.

Slowly, as if expecting to be attacked or yelled at at any moment, Ron made his way around the table and took a seat across from them. When nothing happened he rapidly lost his reticence and tucked into the food spread out before him with the same abandon that he exhibited at the Gryffindor table.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked in a soft whisper, drawing Harry's attention to her.

For a moment he nearly said that everything was fine, but he stopped, his mouth hanging open, before the words could escape. No, everything _wasn't_ fine. Not really. He had more concerns than he knew what to do with, and he knew, absolutely _knew_, that he would need the help and support of the amazing witch at his side. He just wasn't sure how to go about letting her know without coming off as a crazy person, or perhaps driving her away when he would most need her.

A moment later he scoffed mentally. _This is Hermione,_ he reminded himself, staring deeply into her beautiful, concerned gaze. _The only person that's never abandoned you, never turned her back on you. You won't drive her away, but you do need to figure out a way to get across to her what you know._

"Things could be better, honestly," he admitted when he remembered that she was still waiting for an answer to her question. "And they'll likely be getting worse before they do, but as long as I have you, everything will always work out, of that I'm one-hundred percent certain."

When a fresh blush colored her cheeks, Harry had to work fairly hard not to smile. _Why did I never notice how cute she is when she blushes?_ he wondered.

"Where've you been all morning, Harry?" Ron suddenly asked around a half chewed wad of food, an action that caused both Harry and Hermione to grimace in disgust.

"Merlin's pants, Ron," Harry complained. "Chew, swallow, _then_ talk. That's disgusting."

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione nodded her vigorous agreement with Harry's statement and he swallowed the lump of food in his mouth without chewing any further. "Where've you been?" he asked again. "Wanted to play some chess this morning but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I was busy and spent the morning talking to Professor McGonagall," he admitted to Ron's confusion and Hermione's intense curiosity.

"What about?" she asked, unable to hold back the question.

"I realized I really needed to rethink my academics, so I was asking her for some help and advice. I had a lot of questions and she was nice enough to go over everything with me."

Ron's expression twisted with distaste. "Mate, we have free periods all morning. Why would you want to waste that on school stuff?"

"Those 'free periods' are meant to be used to study and work on our assignments, Ronald," Hermione snapped waspishly. "They're not there for you to waste playing chess and goofing off."

Harry sighed and closed his eyes as the two of them started to bicker. He'd forgotten just how much he'd hated how the two of them fought and argued all the time. That was certainly one thing that he hadn't missed after Ron abandoned them during the Hunt.

"Cut it out you two," he finally snapped as their volume started to escalate and their barbs at each other became increasingly nasty and hurtful. His left hand landed on Hermione's thigh, close to her knee, and she froze at the contact as his eyes narrowed to glare at Ron. For a moment, he almost jerked his hand away, but he managed to curb that instinct and instead gave her a gentle squeeze while he kept their "friend" pinned with a fierce glare.

"I'm really tired of the two of you arguing all the time," he said, his gentle grip of Hermione's leg in complete contrast to the irritated tone of his voice. "Ron, other people take their school work more seriously than you. If you're not willing to put in the work, don't complain that other people do, and don't complain when the assignments are due and you haven't finished them yet. It's not Hermione's job to do your homework for you, if you can't be arsed to do it for yourself."

He turned slightly in his spot on the bench to look at the girl next to him. "And you. You know he doesn't have the same drive you do. Hounding him about it obviously doesn't help, so why not just drop it and the next time he decides he wants to beg you to help him finish an assignment at the last minute, don't help him. Let him deal with the consequences of his own actions for a change."

"How am I supposed to get anything finished if Hermione doesn't help?" Ron immediately protested and Harry turned back, growling low in his throat.

"How about do the damn work yourself?" he snapped furiously. "Dammit, Ron. Why are you even friends with Hermione? I mean, do you actually like her? Do you honestly consider her a friend? Or did you just decide it was useful to have someone smarter around to help you with the work that you're too damned lazy to do for yourself?"

His face completely red, Ron's mouth moved up and down several times but nothing intelligible escaped, and Harry was off and running before the boy had a chance to say anything.

"If that's the reason, then that's a pretty shitty reason to be friends with someone, and a worse reason to _stay_ friends with someone. Decide what you want, Ron. Either be an honest friend to Hermione, and to me, or leave us both the hell alone. I've got enough enemies in the world, I don't need a friend that I have to watch my back around."

"Is everything all right over here?"

Harry spun around on the bench and rose to his feet in a single, fluid motion, grabbing his bag with one hand as he stood. "Just a small disagreement, Professor," he said to the stern visage of their Head of House where she was standing behind where he'd been sitting. "Did you need me for something, Ma'am?"

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before giving a short nod. "If you say so, Mister Potter. If you are finished with your lunch, I have some answers to your earlier questions?"

"Absolutely," he said. Turning to Hermione he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll see you in Defense," he assured her and she seemed to force a small smile, her eyes filled with unasked questions.

_You're only going to have even more questions later,_ he thought, not exactly looking forward to that inevitable interrogation. Hermione could be absolutely relentless in the pursuit of knowledge, and he didn't relish the thought of _being_ the mystery that she would be determined to solve.

"I'm ready if you are, Professor," he said, turning back to their Head of House, who nodded again and simply turned to lead him from the Great Hall, leaving a shocked pair of friends as well as a buzzing table of Hufflepuffs in their wake.

#####

Later, Harry waited in the Defense class for his friends, slowly turning the pages to the Third year Ancient Runes text. He wasn't exactly reading the text, not since most of his attention was split in a few other directions, and he didn't want to half arse a subject as potentially volatile as Ancient Runes.

Thus he was more skimming things while his mind wandered idly. He thought over the months while on the Hunt where Hermione had pounded some of the more practical uses of Ancient Runes into his head and his slap-shod education in Arithmancy. At the same time he was keeping an eye on the door, waiting for his friends to appear as well as one other that would be important in the near future, and he was considering what he intended to do in class today with a certain amount of glee.

A moment later the door to the classroom opened and some of the other students began to trickle into the room. Harry closed the book and slid it into his bag, his gaze now focused intently on the door. A quick wave got Hermione and Ron's attention when they came in, and the pair made their way to the front of the room to take the seats on either side of him.

"Sorry Ron, could you sit on Hermione's other side?" Harry asked before the redhead could take the open seat to Harry's left. "I want to leave this open for someone else today."

Ron's ears quickly began to redden and Harry prepared himself for a Weasley blow-up, but miraculously, Ron held his tongue and moved over to sit on Hermione's right side just as Harry straightened in his seat and waved toward the door again.

"Oi!" he called out over the heads of those students already seated. "Neville! Over here, Mate. I saved you a seat."

Hermione looked curious, Ron shocked, and poor Neville appeared incredibly nervous as he moved toward the front of the room under the surprised scrutiny of more than a dozen students.

"Have a seat, Neville," Harry told him, gesturing to the empty seat next to him with a friendly smile on his face.

"I'm… I'm n-not sure I should," Neville stuttered, staring at the floor in front of him.

"If you don't want to, then don't," Harry stated firmly. "But don't avoid it if you're doing so because you think you're not good enough or some other load of bollox."

"Language, Harry!"

"Sorry, dear," Harry said, his tone clearly implying that he wasn't at all sorry as his gaze remained fixed on Neville. "I don't have time to go into details or specifics right now, Nev, but I believe that you're going to be one hell of a wizard one day, and beside that, I've always thought of you as a friend. I'm sorry that we haven't treated you more like a friend so far, but that stops now. Plus…"

He trailed off and glanced around for a moment before he pulled Neville into the chair next to him and leaned closer to the other boy, speaking in a hushed tone as the door opened and their 'professor' came into the room. "Plus, I believe, or I hope, that we're going to be seeing a lot of each other in the near future, so I'd like to see about us being better friends, if at all possible."

"Butt's better be in seats," Crouch barked out as he stumped his way up to the front of the room and there was a general scramble as people found the closest seat to drop into.

Harry turned his attention to the front after giving Neville a pointed look, to which the other boy returned a solemn nod. Harry wasn't entirely certain that Neville knew what he was referring to, but he at least appeared to understand there was something else going on.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Hermione staring intently at him. He shifted towards her slightly and murmured under his breath, "later, Hermione. I promise," just as Crouch reached the front of the room and leaned back against the desk.

"Today is goin' ta be a mite different," he growled out once everyone had settled down, Moody's electric blue, magic eye roaming slowly over the class. "Today I'm going ta be placing tha Imperius curse on each of you, so you can become familiar with its effects, and ta see if any of you can resist it at all."

Hermione immediately protested the use of the highly illegal curse but her arguments were shot down one by one and in minutes the desks had all been moved, clearing a large empty space at the front of the room.

"Now," Crouch said, "when I cast tha curse at you, I want ye ta treat me as a dark wizard, try ta fight me off, try as hard as you can ta resist and we'll see if any of you have what it takes."

Most of the class muttered quietly to their friends, or whoever was standing closest to to them, at that and before Crouch could start calling up students Harry suddenly stepped forward, moving up to the front of the room, his hands tucked into his pockets as he came to a stop facing the 'professor'.

"In a hurry ta taste yer second Unforgivable, Potter?" Crouch asked, his real eye narrowed at the teen who said nothing, simply waiting silently as the class looked on.

The surrounding students tensed as the seconds ticked by while the two stared each other down, Harry barely keeping the hatred he felt for the man before him off of his face with a careful use of his limited Occlumency to try and control his emotions.

Crouch's arm came up, wand pointed at Harry as he said, "Imp-"

"Diffindo! Accio leg! Flipendo! Expelliarmus! Incarcerous! Stupefy!"

As the fake Moody's arm rose, Harry moved, whipping his wand out of his pocket and snapping off a pre-planned chain of spells. The cutting curse severed Crouch's wooden leg just below the knee and the summoning charm pulled it out from under him, throwing him off balance and interrupting his casting of the Imperius.

The knockback jinx finished the job of knocking Crouch on his arse while the disarming charm sent his wand through the air toward Harry as he sidestepped the flying lower part of the wooden leg. His left hand flashed out and he caught the wand as his last two spells had Crouch bound tightly in conjured ropes and stunned unconscious just as his body hit the stone floor with a loud thud.

Harry rose from the defensive crouch that he'd dropped into as the entire class stared at him in shocked silence for several long moments before:

"Harry James Potter!"

Harry cringed but kept his eyes and both wands trained on Crouch. "What?" he asked defensively.

"'What?'" Hermione repeated in a shocked tone. "What?! You just attacked a teacher! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"Absolutely none at all," he responded, finally turning to face her as he lowered the wands in his hands.

Most of the class, he could easily see, were gaping at him, but Hermione looked to be two seconds away from exploding.

"Hermione," he said, interrupting her before she could get going. "Trust me." With that he turned and revived Crouch while everyone watching seemed to collectively hold their breath in anticipation of the imposter's reaction.

Crouch groaned as he woke, his eyes blinking open blearily for a moment and it was only because Harry was standing so close that he was able to notice it. For just a second, as the man became more fully aware, there was a flash of unadulterated rage that flitted across his face. An instant later it was gone and his reaction sent the entirety of the class, minus Harry, into a state of utter confusion.

He started to laugh.

Not a chuckle, or a mildly amused chortle, but a full blown, body shaking, deep, belly laugh.

_Gotta give one thing to the little cock monkey,_ Harry thought in disgust, _he's a damned good actor._

"Brilliant, Potter!" Crouch roared, tears streaming from his eyes. "Let that be a lesson ta tha rest of you! I told you lot to treat me like a dark wizard and that's exactly what Potter did. You'd be daft to stand around and just let someone cast a spell at you like that. You'd try ta fight back at the least."

Silently, Harry flicked his wand and banished the ropes trussing up the disguised Death Eater. Crouch sat up slowly, groaning slightly, and eyeing Harry with a small degree of respect in his eyes that he honestly didn't think was entirely faked.

"That'll be twenty points ta Gryffindor for that little display, Potter." Crouch accepted his wand back as Harry handed it to him, his skin crawling at the idea of returning a weapon to someone he knew to be his enemy. "We're gonna do this again, but this time you're gonna actually let me cast the curse so you can try to fight it off. Now… where's my leg?"

"Ummm… it's over here, Professor."

Harry turned, surprised to find a blond Slytherin girl that he vaguely remembered seeing fighting against the Death Eaters during the battle pointing down at the floor of the classroom in front of her. His eyes followed the direction of her finger and they widened comically for a moment before he burst out laughing when he noticed Malfoy's prone, unconscious form, his obviously crushed nose dripping blood onto the stones while the severed artificial leg rested on the ground next to him.

"Okay… _that_ was not a part of the plan!" Harry blurted out, pointing one finger at Malfoy. "But I gotta admit… it's damned funny!"

#####

Hermione Granger was confused and worried for her best friend, a boy she could admit privately that she loved with all her heart, no matter that it didn't make any sense whatsoever for her to feel that way. All day he had been acting very strangely. Invading the Hufflepuff table at breakfast and lunch. Hugging her in the Common Room that morning. He had been outgoing and boisterous and, if she didn't miss her guess, he'd even been _flirting_ with her all day!

She couldn't bring herself to tell him that his efforts could never amount to anything, however. _What are you doing to me, Harry?_ she thought with a quiet sigh as she shot a glance at the boy where he sat next to her at the Gryffindor table.

Thankfully, he was behaving more in line with what she'd come to expect from him over the last few years, blushing brightly and looking as if he wanted to disappear as Ron regaled anyone who would listen with the tale of their Defense class that afternoon.

"So the git gets sent off to the Hospital Wing with Crabbe and Goyle, right?" Ron was saying as the rest of the Quidditch team sat around them, listening gleefully to the story that had already made the rounds about the castle before they'd even come down for the Feast. "Moody fixes up his leg and goes and casts the Imperius curse at Harry and tells him to jump up on a chair, and what does Harry do?"

"Did he jump on a chair?" Angelina asked from her spot sitting across the table next to one of the twins.

"Ron, come on," Harry weakly attempted to protest but the redhead just talked right over him.

"Nope! Moody cast the curse and for a few seconds Harry just stood there, then he suddenly attacked the guy _again_! Snapped off a couple cutting curses and a reductor!"

Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all turned their attention to Harry, who seemed to shrink in on himself under their scrutiny for a moment before Alicia let out a low whistle.

"Wait… so did Moody cast the curse wrong?" Fred asked.

"No, Harry was able to shrug it off like it was nothing," Ron crowed, practically bouncing in his seat.

"It wasn't that easy," Harry tried again.

"You did make it look rather easy," Hermione admitted, though she was patting his left hand where it rested on the table sympathetically.

Harry sighed and focused his attention on his meal.

"So is that why you guys were let out of class early? The story going around the castle is that Harry put old Moody in the Hospital Wing," Katie asked curiously and Harry groaned and lowered his head into his hands.

Ron shrugged. "Nah, but the reductor hit his wand and busted it up so he couldn't continue the class," he said around a mouthful of food.

_At which point, you disappeared,_ Hermione mused to herself, eyeing her friend again. Immediately after Professor Moody had dismissed them, she'd attempted to reach Harry, intent on dragging him off to get the answers he'd been promising her, but he'd made a quick escape, disappearing out into the corridors and by the time she made it out of the room he'd vanished.

She hadn't seen him for the rest of the afternoon until he'd joined her and Ron at the table just before the Feast started. _Where have you been disappearing to all day? Some of those spells you used haven't been taught yet, where did you learn them? Why won't you talk to me? What is going on with you, Harry?_

For the rest of the meal she was barely able to concentrate on her food, her thoughts filled with the growing number of mysteries surrounding the boy at her side as she struggled to make some kind of sense of his unusual behavior. He seemed so different, but at the same time he was still obviously her best friend. There was something in his eyes every time he looked at her that sent a small shiver down her spine and a stabbing sensation through her chest.

Harry's words from that morning rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind when he was talking about his dream. _He dreamed someone told him that he was a girl, _she thought. Hermione bit back the urge to sigh again,_ life would be so much simpler if he _was _a girl._ _Then of course, with my luck, she would have a crush on Ronald or something. Stop doing this to yourself and just move on already!_

"Hermione? Are you okay?"

She blinked several times and turned to look into a pair of concerned green eyes, her mind scrambling to make sense of what he'd just asked her in her distracted state. A quick glance around informed her that the last of the desert had disappeared, leaving the plates all sparkling clean once again, and Dumbledore was rising from his chair to address the Hall.

"Just thinking," she muttered back. "I'm fine."

_I'd be even better if you would just explain what's going on with you to me!_

The look he gave her made it clear that he didn't believe her in the slightest, but to her great relief he didn't press her on the topic, instead turning his attention back to the front where the Headmaster snuffed out the hundreds of floating candles with a wave of his wand, leaving only those inside the giant pumpkins in order to cast the room into a sort of semi-darkness. Nearly every eye in the room was fixed on the blue-white flames flickering within the mouth of the goblet.

"One minute to go," she suddenly heard Harry whisper in her ear.

"The goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute."

Hermione glanced over at Harry but her head snapped back toward the front as the flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red and sparks began flying from the open mouth. The entire Hall gasped a moment later when a long tongue of flame shot out of the goblet and a charred piece of paper fluttered from it, only to be caught by Dumbledore.

"Viktor Krum, for Durmstrang," Harry whispered.

"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore read in a strong, clear voice," will be Viktor Krum."

Hermione turned to Harry. "How did you-"

Her voice was drowned out as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall.

"No surprises there," Ron shouted over the noise as Viktor rose from the Slytherin table and slouched his way up toward Dumbledore. When he reached the aged Headmaster, he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through a door at the back of the room.

The cheering slowly faded as the flames in the goblet turned red again and a second piece of parchment arrived, borne on a tongue of flames.

"Fleur Delacour, for Beauxbatons," Harry whispered. "Two of the girls not chosen are going to break down into tears."

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Hermione didn't question him this time and simply watched the contingent from Beauxbatons as the beautiful Fleur rose from her seat and the rest of the girls looked incredibly upset _not_ to have been chosen. Indeed, just as Harry had said, two of them burst into sobs and lowered their heads onto their arms on the table as their nearby friends attempted to console them.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...

Hermione didn't watch the goblet as everyone else was, her eyes were fixed on Harry, who was staring at the front of the room with a somber expression on his face that didn't match the excitement shown by everyone around him.

"Cedric Diggory, for Hogwarts," he suddenly whispered, leaning slightly toward her so that only she was able to hear him.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except Hermione and those sitting closest to him; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

"Harry Potter," Harry whispered to her again and Hermione felt a sudden jolt of terror shoot through her body. _It couldn't possibly..._

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was yet another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment from the air. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out-

"Harry Potter."

Complete and utter silence met that, save for one voice sighing in resignation. Hermione turned to the boy beside her as he pushed himself to his feet and turned to her, every eye now fixed on him.

"I keep saying it, Hermione," he told her, a sad expression on his face as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "But I really do mean it. Later. I promise I'll explain everything I can."

"HARRY POTTER!" Dumbledore suddenly roared, much louder.

The sadness in Harry's eyes shifted in a blink to a burning rage that she thought she'd only rarely seen in him as his head snapped up toward the front of the room.

"I heard you quite well the first time, you old goat!" he snapped as a collective gasp tore through the room. "You don't have to yell."

The assembled professors and dignitaries at the staff table were clearly incensed at Harry's casual insult of the Headmaster, but Dumbledore himself appeared serene in the face of the furious student marching toward him down the center of the Great Hall. As he walked, Harry's wand was suddenly in his hand and he pointed it toward his own throat, muttering something that no one could hear.

When he spoke next, his voice boomed out, filling the entire Hall and Hermione recognized the spell he'd cast as a Sonorous. "Champions!" he bellowed. "Your presence is required in the Great Hall! Please come back now!"

"We do not need them out here, Harry," Dumbledore disagreed. "In fact, you should be joining them back there so that we can discuss what has happened here."

Behind the table the door opened and the three champions re-entered the room, each looking curious, or confused.

"Go in the back and discuss things away from the eyes and ears of the students and guests?" Harry scoffed, his voice still amplified by the Sonorous charm. "No, old man. We're going to discuss this out in the open, so everyone knows what was said here, and no one can claim any underhanded tactics."

He was halfway to the staff table when Harry suddenly stopped and staggered slightly, hunching over with his arms wrapped around his middle as a pained sounding groan escaped him. A hand grabbed Hermione's arm and her head snapped around to find Ron holding onto her and that she'd half risen from her seat without even realizing it.

"Son of a…" Harry's groaning voice reached her ears and she returned her eyes to the front again as she dropped back into her seat. "Gods, that hurts," he huffed, every labored breath perfectly clear to the entire Hall.

He forced himself straight, his spine stiffening as he continued walking, somewhat erratically now, toward the front of the room.

"I'm going to say this one time, and one time _only_," Harry suddenly roared, his amplified voice overwhelming in the large room. "I did _not _put my name in the Goblet of Fire. I did not ask anyone else to put my name in. I did not coerce, pay, bribe, blackmail, or anything else you could think of to get another individual to submit my name for me."

His right arm came up and a shaky finger pointed directly at Cedric where he stood, open mouthed behind the staff table.

"Cedric Diggory is the Hogwarts Champion. He is the _only_ Hogwarts Champion. I might attend this school, but I refuse to take any of the deserved recognition from him, and from Hufflepuff, nor will I represent a school that doesn't care about the safety of its students."

Another gasp ripped through the hall and Dumbledore frowned.

"I resent the implications of that statement, Harry," he said as Harry ripped off his robes and tossed them aside, leaving him in his slacks, white dress shirt, beat up trainers, and his Gryffindor tie.

Harry snorted out a laugh followed by doubling over again, his body spasming for a moment before he dropped to one knee.

"He's in pain!" Hermione shrieked and tried to stand again, but again, Ron grabbed her arm and held her in place.

"You resent that statement," Harry panted as he regained his feet and started yanking at his tie. "My first year I nearly died at least three times, and I ended up having to kill your Defense Professor. Second year I fought a basilisk to save this school. All year students were being petrified and you didn't do a thing about it, did you, old man? Last year, Dementors nearly Kissed me on no less than three occasions, and your own Potions Master nearly got me killed along with three others. _THEN_, then he tried to have a man, who you both knew to be innocent, given the Dementor's Kiss."

He finished removing his tie and he threw it at Dumbledore's feet as he glared up at the aged wizard.

"Crouch," Harry suddenly barked. "I didn't put my name in that goblet. I don't want to be in this blasted Tournament. It should be for the actual champions, not because someone is hoping I'll get killed competing in this thing. All that being said, is there any way for me to _not_ compete in this utter shit-show?"

Barty Crouch Senior sneered at Harry. "Once a competitor's name comes out of the Goblet of Fire there is no going back. It amounts to a binding magical contract. You either compete, or you'll lose your magic for breaking the contract."

"So I have no choice, is what you're saying?"

"None. You must compete or forfeit your magic."

"If Hogwarts gets two champions we should be allowed two champions as well," Karkaroff spoke up.

"Is being completely stupid a requirement of being a Death Eater, Igor?" Harry snapped, his head whipping toward the Durmstrang Headmaster. "Didn't I just say that I won't represent Hogwarts and that this school only has _one_ champion? If I'm going to be forced to compete in this farce, I'll represent myself and my House, not this nuthouse that pretends it's a School of Magic."

Hermione shook her arm, trying to break free of Ron's grip as the air in the room began to feel charged and heavy. Something was about to happen, she could feel it, and her best friend, the most important person in the world to her, stood at the very center of it.

Harry's back arched as a soft glow began to emanate from him and his pained cries suddenly filled the Hall. He stumbled back a few steps as Dumbledore reached for him, one arm swinging wildly in the Headmaster's direction.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" Harry roared, his voice cracking and straining. "This is your fault, you senile old bastard. _You_ did this to me when you left me on Petunia's doorstep. Remember, old man? Do you remember what you did that night?!"

Dumbledore's eyes were wide, one hand still extended toward the teen before him, his mouth hanging open in shock as the feeling in the air suddenly spiked.

"Let _go of me_!" Hermione shrieked, pushing herself to her feet and yanking her arm from Ron's grip. The next moment she was sprinting up the length of the Hall toward Harry. She didn't have the slightest clue what she intended to do, but if everyone else was just going to stand around doing absolutely _nothing_, she at least had every intention of doing _something_.

"Miss Granger, stay back!" Dumbledore called and for the first time in her life Hermione Granger completely ignored a teacher as she rushed up to Harry and wrapped her arms tightly around him just as his legs gave out and his weight pulled them both to the ground.

"It hurts, Hermione," Harry groaned, pain filled eyes looking up at her from her lap, her legs folded under her. "I didn't think it was going to hurt."

"It's okay," she lied, vision blurring as her eyes filled with tears. She had no idea if anything was going to be okay. She didn't know what was happening, only that he was in pain. "It'll be okay, Harry, I promise."

He shook his head, sweat soaked hair plastered to his forehead.

"You need to get away from me," he tried and she shushed him, placing one hand over his mouth.

"I told you this morning," she hissed. "There is no scenario that exists where I won't be here for you. I will _always _be here for you. So shut it and let me help."

She moved her hand and he barely managed a shaky smile before his eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to convulse in her arms, the glow surrounding him growing in intensity with each passing second.

With the increasing light, the heavy feeling in the air grew oppressive, and a low humming sound began to fill the Hall. Higher and louder the noise grew as his body shook and twisted; Hermione could only hold onto him as tightly as she could, her eyes screwed shut.

She had no idea how long she spent trying to keep him from hurting himself as his shaking grew worse, but finally everything suddenly stopped; the high pitched humming cut off, Harry stopped convulsing, and the heavy feeling in the air vanished.

Silence reigned for several seconds and Hermione slowly loosened her grip and sat up, carefully studying the boy sprawled across her lap, his eyes closed as if he were asleep.

"Miss Granger, I implore you to-"

Whatever Dumbledore wanted to say was cut off when Harry's eyes snapped open, his back arched again, leveraging him off her lap entirely as the back of his head struck the stone floor beneath them and a Sonorous enhanced scream of pure agony tore from his throat.

There was a pulse, a shockwave of energy that rippled outwards from Harry and sped through the room. Everyone within thirty feet was sent flying by the force of the energy, and the floating, giant pumpkins were all suddenly crushed, plunging the Great Hall into total darkness.


	4. Harleen Janine Potter

**Author's notes: Well, here we are again. I am absolutely thrilled by the response I've gotten from the first three chapters of this little fic. Thank you, everyone that has read, favorited, followed, and reviewed. It very much means a lot to me and I'm happy to see the interest that people have in this story. **

**In this chapter we get to see the immediate aftermath of what happened to Harry after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Now, this chapter and next chapter there's a shift that might cause a little bit of confusion so I want to make it clear in advance so people aren't wondering. During this chapter, Harry will still mostly be referred to as Harry. Starting next chapter in narrative she will be called Harleen almost at all times. The only time 'Harry' will be used is when it is another character speaking to her. **

**Hope this meets with everyone's expectations. There's a bit of chaos, a bit of mayhem… wait… different story, sorry. There's some interesting times ahead of us, however so…**

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing important. **

**I now present chapter four of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Harleen Janine Potter

by,

Rtnwriter

Panic. Chaos. Bedlam. These words, and many others, were apt descriptions of the state of the Great Hall just after the pulse of energy rippled outward from Harry and the last of the lights were snuffed out, leaving the darkness complete. Not that light would have helped Hermione as she blindly pulled her best friend into her arms. She was fairly sure that she was crying too much to be able to see clearly anyway.

_Is he lighter?_ she wondered absently as she held his slender form against her.

A loud bang, like a cannon blast tore through the air and several voices were raised in panicked shrieks for a moment before the candles all flared up, bringing light back to the room.

"Everyone, please calm yourselves and return to your seats."

Hermione barely heard Dumbledore, her mind in a daze as she struggled to push back her tears and focus her attention on Harry. She roughly scrubbed away her tears and looked around, taking in the scene around her. Dumbledore was on his feet, power absolutely radiating off of him. The professors and visitors at the staff table were in the process of picking themselves up off of the floor and a flustered and disheveled Madam Pomfrey was approaching. Her hat was askew, hair loosened from its bun and her face was set in a grim expression as she sank to her knees beside them.

"Miss Granger," she said in a calming, gentle tone. "Let me examine her."

Hermione blinked several times in confusion. "Her? Who-"

She cut herself off when she looked down at the figure in her arms. Harry was _different._ The black, short cut, messy hair that had always been a trademark of her best friend was no more. While still black and messy, Harry's hair was longer, probably reaching down to the bottom of his shoulder blades with a fringe across his forehead that hid the famous lightning bolt shaped scar.

His facial features were softer, cheekbones higher, nose smaller with a slight upturn to it and his lips were suddenly fuller, pink and tempting. Hermione wrenched her eyes away only to freeze again as she caught sight of the curvature of a pair of breasts suddenly straining the buttons of Harry's uniform shirt.

"He-he's… he's a…" Hermione trailed off, eyes wide and completely unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing.

"Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. "I need to examine Miss Potter."

Hermione nodded shakily and carefully set her friend on the ground, moving back just slightly as Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand over Harry.

"Definite concussion," she muttered as she worked. "Strained or torn muscles, ligaments, and tendons throughout her body. Stress fractures… everywhere…"

Fresh tears stung Hermione's eyes as Madam Pomfrey trailed off, continuing to mutter to herself as she studied the results of her diagnostics, but she angrily dashed them away, forcing herself to focus. _Harry doesn't need you to fall apart, Granger,_ she berated herself. _He… She needs you to be strong. Merlin… did you _know_ this was going to happen, Harry?_

Harry, of course, had no answers for her. Not yet.

"Miss Granger… Miss Granger!"

Hermione blinked and focused her attention on the mediwitch in front of her.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.

"The damage isn't too severe, I promise you. But aside from the physical strain, Miss Potter will very likely be mentally and emotionally fragile once she wakes," the mediwitch explained, giving Hermione a pointed look. "Having the support of her friends will be of great help to her. Can she count on you for that?"

Hermione took a deep breath, her expression hardening as she gave a single, curt nod. "I'm not leaving hi-her," she insisted to which Madam Pomfrey offered a small, encouraging smile.

"How is she, Poppy?"

Hermione looked up to find the Headmaster standing next to them, a somber expression on his wizened face and looking older than Hermione thought she'd ever seen him.

"Not good, but honestly not as bad as I've seen before when she's been in my Hospital Wing," Madam Pomfrey said. "I need to get her upstairs though. She's going to need a number of potions but she'll be right as rain in the morning, if a bit sore." She stood and flicked her wand, levitating Harry's new and very feminine form off of the stones and onto a conjured stretcher.

Before she left the Hall with her patient she stopped and turned back to the Headmaster, leveling an angry glare in his direction. "I will be wanting some answers, Albus," she snapped angrily, "about why I suddenly remembered that Mister Potter was _born_ Miss Potter. Why couldn't I remember that? Why was she a he for all these years? What exactly was she talking about when she accused you of doing this to her?"

Dumbledore let out a long sigh, glancing over his shoulder where Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout, as well as Hagrid and the three champions were all standing. "Yes… I imagine a great many people will have questions that deserve answers."

Poppy gave a curt nod and started walking away, leaving Hermione still kneeling on the floor, unsure just what she should do next.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione's head came up to look at the retreating figure of the mediwitch. "I could use a hand, if you're of a mind."

She scrambled to her feet and hurried to follow Madam Pomfrey, stopping only long enough to tell a worried Gryffindor table that she didn't know what was going on, but as soon as she had some answers, she'd try to fill them in. It took some convincing to keep Ron, Ginny, Neville, Fred, and George from following as the remaining professors began directing all the students back to their dorms.

"Look, I need to go," she said, eyeing Madam Pomfrey's retreating form. "I'll try to keep you all updated as soon as I know something."

With that said, and with their voices ringing in her ears, she rushed off and left the Great Hall and the chaos within it behind.

#####

She sat by the Hospital bed half-an-hour after leaving the Great Hall, still without any answers to her many, many questions. First and foremost amongst them… Harry was a _girl?_

_A really hot girl, too,_ she thought, eyeing the figure on the bed for a moment before suddenly flushing brightly at the direction her thoughts had turned. _Get a grip,_ she furiously told herself, _this is your best friend you're thinking about._

_Your best friend that you're in love with but couldn't do anything about because the idea of being with a boy disgusted you,_ a voice in the back of her mind reminded her. _She's certainly not a boy anymore._

_You don't even know if this change is permanent, or if Harry would want to _stay_ a girl,_ she thought back as Madam Pomfrey walked away from the bed, heading toward her office. Before she could really start arguing with herself a popping sound caught her attention and she started slightly, turning toward the sound to find a house elf standing nearby.

A very strangely dressed house elf.

On his right foot he wore a lime green sock and a hot pink one on his left foot. Most of his body was covered by the single loudest pair of boardshorts she felt she'd ever seen, pulled up until the waist band was just beneath his armpits and a bright orange sock hung from his left ear.

"Are… are you Dobby?" she asked, figuring this _had_ to be the elf that Harry had told her about.

His bulbous, tennis ball sized green eyes grew wide and he began hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. "Missy Miney recognizes Dobby?" he squeaked. "Truly, Missy Miney is as smart a witch as the Great Harry Potter says, to recognize Dobby so."

Despite everything, all the chaos, worry, fear, and confusion, she couldn't help but smile at the excitable little guy's antics.

"Well, Harry described you very well," she said. "Not that I'm not pleased to meet you, but can I ask why are you here?" she asked gently.

Dobby bounced a couple of times and reached into a pocket of his shorts, pulling out two folded over pieces of parchment. He held one out to her.

"The Great Harry Potter asked Dobby to deliver this to his Missy Miney if his name came out of goblet and if he was not awake… also if he was not a he."

Hermione blinked several times as she parsed through the sentence. "You mean that Harry thought this might happen? That he might be…" She trailed off and glanced at her friend again.

"Yes, Missy Miney. 'Just in case,' the Great Harry Potter tells Dobby."

She frowned, looking down at the folded piece of parchment in her hand to find her name written on the outside in Harry's distinctive scrawl.

"The Great Harry Potter said to deliver it when Missy Miney is being alone and that she should read quickly," Dobby said after a few moments passed where she just continued to stare at the parchment.

Shooting Dobby a look, she nodded, sat up straight in her seat and took a deep breath before she opened the letter.

_Hermione-_

_If you're reading this, then it really wasn't a dream and right about now I'm… different. If that's the case, and I'm not conscious to tell you, I still wanted you to know first. I want you, my best friend and the most important person in my life to know my real name, and to hear it from me before anyone else. So, let me take a moment to properly introduce myself._

_Hello, my name is Harleen Janine Potter, but you can call me Harry._

Hermione looked up from the letter to stare at her friend again. "Harleen," she said slowly, as if tasting the name rather than simply saying it as a gentle smile curved her lips. "I like it."

_Merlin, does it feel weird to write that. But… honestly it feels kind of good at the same time. Anyway, I don't have time, or you don't, to waste. I really, really need you to do me a favor, Hermione. Dobby has a second letter and it needs to get to Madam Bones at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, right away. Like an hour ago, right away._

_I know things that I shouldn't be able to know, and there are people that won't be happy about that if they find out. Knowing me, I probably did something stupid and said some things that might have blown that already, but I need to mitigate the damage as much as possible. There's so much that I need to tell you, and so much more that I honestly _can't_ tell you. I'll explain what I can as soon as possible, but in the meantime I _need_ Madam Bones._

_Life is about to get more complicated for me, and possibly more dangerous as well. Please, get the letter to her, and whatever you do, don't listen to Dumbledore. He's not an enemy, but he's made some terrible mistakes that have affected my life in some awful ways. Don't look him or Snape in the eye and burn this letter as soon as you can._

_Thank you in advance, and I can't wait until we can sit down and talk._

_Love,_

_Harleen Potter_

By the time she finished reading, Hermione's eyebrows had climbed to somewhere near her hairline and she found herself with more questions than ever.

"First things first," she muttered. Grabbing a nearby bed pan, she dropped the letter into it and burned it with a quick incendio, reducing the single sheet of parchment to ash in a matter of seconds. With that task accomplished she turned her attention to Dobby and the second letter that he was holding in one long fingered hand. "Is that the letter for Madam Bones?" she asked and he nodded so fast that the sock on his ear went flying off.

"Yes, Missy Miney," he squeaked.

"Now, how do I get a letter to someone I've never met, who is somewhere I don't know and can't go to myself even if I did?" she muttered, chewing anxiously on her lower lip as she tried to puzzle out a solution to the immediate problem. She didn't know what was going on, but after the knowledge that Harry had shown so far, she was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt until she could explain the situation to her.

"Dobby cans take it," Dobby said, bouncing in place. "Dobby would be happy to take letter for the Great Harry Potter's Missy Miney."

"I couldn't ask you to do that, Dobby," Hermione protested, at once wanting to accept the help while simultaneously not wanting to take advantage of Dobby's giving nature.

Dobby suddenly adopted a sly looking grin. "But Missy Miney be not asking Dobby," he said. "Dobby be offering."

Before she could respond Dobby raised his right hand, snapped his fingers, and vanished with a quiet pop, taking the letter along with him in the process.

Hermione gaped at the empty spot where the little elf had just been standing for a moment before her face broke out into a rueful smile.

"You know, Harry," she muttered as she sat back in her seat. "With everything you told me about Dobby, you forgot to mention how sneaky he could be." She moved her chair forward and reached out, taking one of Harry's hands in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze, more for her own comfort than out of any belief that it might help Harry.

"I have so many questions for you," she whispered. "I get the feeling that you've gone and gotten yourself into another adventure, as if your name coming out of that goblet wasn't enough. The problem, as I see it, is you didn't have me involved from the beginning. You know that you need me after all we've been through together the last few years, Harleen Potter."

For a time, Hermione continued to talk to her friend, taking comfort in speaking to her, even if she wasn't responding, while she waited to see just what was going to happen next.

#####

Raised voices were the first thing she heard. Muted, muffled, but definitely raised based on their tone.

_Someone's upset,_ she thought deliriously, her mind struggling to remember just what had happened and why did she hurt so damned much?

"I don't care how the boy got his name to come out of the goblet, I just want to be certain he doesn't make a mockery of this event! The Ministry will not stand for some brat causing problems with our international relations!"

"Minister, _Miss_ Potter has already stated that _she_ did not put _her _name in the goblet nor did she ask anyone to do it for her. She has also stated that she doesn't want to compete in your tournament, anyway. It is your appointed Ministry Representative that has stated that she has no choice and must either compete, against her will, or forfeit her magic!"

"Then he shouldn't have hoodwinked the goblet!"

"Oh my- Albus! _You_ deal with this- this… _man_!"

_Fudge and McGonagall,_ she thought, slightly impressed with the way the stern professor was laying into Fudge.

"This is a Hospital, and I have patients that need their rest. If you all do not stop shouting I will throw every last one of you out on your ears; Headmaster, Minister, it doesn't matter to me. Albus may control the wards to the school but _I_ control the wards on this room, and I have final say on who is allowed in here."

_Way to go, Madam Pomfrey._

"If we might all take a few moments to calm down. Nothing will be achieved by us all being at each other's throats."

"I would like to know what Hogwarts is going to be doing to investigate this matter. If need be I will happily supply a couple of my Aurors to lead the investigation."

Harry felt that voice sounded vaguely familiar but she couldn't quite place it at first.

"I assure you, Madam Bones, that will not be necessary, the staff and I have the situation in hand and the DMLE is not needed."

"My presence here was requested, Albus, and I am not in the habit of ignoring a request for aid when it is made."

"None of my staff, nor I, requested the presence of the DMLE."

"You are not the only people capable of making such a request. I have here a letter, written by Miss Potter herself, requesting that I be here tonight."

_Uh-oh… might be time to 'wake up' before someone asks when I'd have had a chance to write or send a letter._

"...guh…"

"Harry?"

_That's Hermione. I'd recognize her voice anywhere._

At the sound of her name the other voices suddenly cut off and there was a shuffling sound before a presence made itself known beside her.

"Miss Potter? Can you hear me?"

"Do ask the brat just how he got his name into the goblet," an unpleasant voice spoke up from somewhere nearby.

_Snape, great. I need to deal with _him_ like I need another hole in my head._

"Severus you are not helping," Madam Pomfrey said in an acerbic tone. "Kindly keep quiet while I see to my patient."

"Harry, can you open your eyes?" Hermione's voice came from beside her and she could feel someone taking hold of her hand.

Harry groaned quietly and slowly forced her eyes open, blearily looking around for a moment before looking down and taking in the new curve to her pajama top over her chest.

"So… I guess _that_ actually happened," she muttered, then her eyes shot wide. "Woah… my voice sounds weird."

"Well, you didn't honestly think that you would sound like a fourteen-year-old boy still, did you?" Madam Pomfrey asked and she turned her head toward the mothering mediwitch as she heard Hermione snickering quietly on her other side.

"So what do I sound like, then?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey favored her with a small smile. "You sound like a fourteen-year-old girl, Miss Potter."

Harry pulled a face at the address. "Yeah, that's gonna take some getting used to."

She squinted, attempting to bring the woman into better focus when she felt her glasses being carefully slipped onto her face.

"Thank you," she mumbled and tried to sit up but groaned in pain and quickly gave it up as a bad job. "Why am I hurting so much?" she asked quietly.

"The transformation that you underwent… well there's no way that kind of rapid change wouldn't have done _some_ damage. Torn muscles, strained ligaments and tendons, stress fractures of most of the major bones… You also suffered a concussion when your head hit the floor in the Great Hall."

"Nothing permanent?"

"Nothing other than the obvious, dear. But I'll have you fixed up by tomorrow. You'll still be sore for a day or two most likely, but nothing unmanageable."

Harry sighed and relaxed further into her bed in relief, "thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

A turn of her head to the left found Hermione right where she expected her to be, sitting beside her bed and holding her hand, which she gave a weak squeeze. Her best friend's smile was shaky, but the return squeeze was strong and encouraging.

Turning her head again, an action that induced a bit of nausea, she looked around the room. The Headmaster, Barty Crouch Senior, Professor McGonagall, Minister Fudge, Snape, and a woman that she immediately recognized from that farce of a trial she went through in her fifth year, as well as two Aurors standing back from the group as a whole. Kingsley Shacklebolt and… she thought the second man's name was Dawlish.

"Would you be Madam Bones?" she asked, mindful of the fact they hadn't met yet. She seemed to be middle aged, just as Harry remembered her, shoulder length red hair streaked with gray and wearing a set of Auror Robes. She might have had a kind face, if she'd smiled, with a slightly square jaw and a monocle sat over her left eye, the chain hanging down where it was pinned to the lapel of her robes.

"Indeed I am, Miss Potter," she said in the clipped, no-nonsense tone that Harry remembered from before. "Amelia Bones, Head of the DMLE. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I do wish the circumstances could have been better. With me I have Aurors Shacklebolt and Dawlish-"

"It's late," Crouch interrupted, stomping up toward the bed. "You might feel you have time to laze around, but other people have work to do, so if you don't mind I'd like to give you the details of the first task so that I can be on my way."

"Fine, hurry it up then. I really would rather not waste my time dealing with a criminal."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Madam Bones arch one curious brow as she said that, but while she was obviously paying close attention to what was being said, the woman didn't comment.

"Miss Potter, you simply cannot accuse people of being criminals with no proof of your claim," Dumbledore attempted to admonish her.

"Right, like the criminal did with my Godfather?" she snapped, glaring at Dumbledore's crooked nose in order to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"The first task is set to take place on November 24th," Crouch snarled, his face beet red as he glared at her. "You will not be told what the task actually entails as it is expected that a _true_ champion should show courage in the face of the unknown."

"Whatever you say, Barty," Harry drawled. "Don't forget, I didn't want to be in this bloody tournament, _you_ were the one that said I was being forced to compete against my will."

Crouch's expression hardened even further than usual as he drew himself up to his full height for a moment before he suddenly spun about on his heel and stormed out of the Hospital Wing, slamming the door behind him as he went.

"It was very foolish of you to put your name in that goblet Potter," Fudge blustered. "Rest assured we will be investigating and you will have to answer for yourself once we find out how you did it."

"I've already said that I didn't. So, investigate away, it'd be a nice change from how you refused to allow any investigation last year."

Fudge spluttered and stammered for a moment, his face skipping red and heading straight toward purple before he too spun about and stormed from the room. The doors slammed a second time and a heavy silence settled over the remaining occupants for a few moments.

"Pompous windbag," Harry grumbled.

"That is most unkind of you, Harry," Dumbledore started, only to be cut off as Harry snorted out a derisive laugh.

"Don't talk to me about 'unkind', old man," she growled furiously. "I spent more than ten years with people that are truly 'unkind' because of you. My life has been messed with and torturous because of you. My _body_ was changed… was _violated _because of _YOU_!"

She finished with a shout that echoed through the room, leaving her panting for breath, feeling a bit weak, and a little lightheaded. She was dimly aware of Hermione firmly squeezing her hand again, trying to offer some silent comfort as best she could and gratitude flooded through her for her bushy haired friend.

"You are an arrogant, selfish, ungrateful little boy," Snape suddenly spoke up again, his trademark sneer firmly in place. "An attention seeking glory hound, just like your worthless father-"

"Oh, put a sock in it, Snivellus," Harry said loudly, ignoring the way the dour Potions Master drew himself up angrily. "In case your feeble mind missed the memo, you worthless Death Eater. I'M A GIRL. I didn't ask for this. I didn't even _know_ my father, so you comparing me to him is a mark of pride for me, just as it shows how much of an arrogant arsehole you are."

Looking over at the shocked face of Professor McGonagall. "Why is he even here?" she asked. "He hates me. He's _not _my Head of House. He's nothing but one piss-poor professor of a single class that I take, so what purpose does his presence serve?"

"Severus has my complete trust," Dumbledore said only to be cut off yet again.

"Bully for you. _You_ can trust him all you like. _I_ wouldn't trust him with an acromantula and since this is all personal information about _my_ life I would prefer that _my _privacy be respected," Harry snapped. "Get him out of here, or you can leave as well. I have business with Madam Bones that doesn't involve either of you."

"As your Magical Guardian, any business you have with the DMLE does involve me."

"You can't legally be my guardian as my actual guardian was illegally kept from me, and you are guilty of, at best, negligence, accessory to child abuse, child endangerment, and I don't know what other crimes, possibly kidnapping, but I'm sure Madam Bones will know what my _actual_ guardian can have you charged with."

Hermione's grip on her hand became almost painful the longer she spoke and she tried to give the distraught witch a comforting smile, but Harry really wasn't sure how successful she was at that.

"And with that, I am officially taking over this discussion," said Madam Bones in a tone that brooked no argument. "Severus Snape, your presence is no longer required, leave now. Headmaster Dumbledore I may require that you leave as well, as allegations have been made against you, but for right now you may stay since I will likely have more than a few questions for you."

Snape opened his mouth, probably to protest anyway or drop some new line of vitriol, but the stern glare that Madam Bones leveled in his direction convinced him otherwise and he turned, sweeping from the room in a billowing of black robes.

"Well, at least I know how to clear a room," Harry muttered as the third man in as many minutes stalked off in a huff, causing Hermione to choke back a laugh from her seat beside the bed.

"Poppy, is Miss Potter well enough for a, possibly lengthy, discussion?" Amelia asked, a smirk twitching the corners of her mouth as she pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat. At the foot of the bed, Dumbledore conjured himself a squashy purple armchair and also took a seat, his expression giving away nothing of what he felt about the situation.

"Miss Potter? How are you feeling? And please, do not tell me that you're 'fine', be honest."

Harry's mouth, which she'd opened to respond to the question, snapped shut as Hermione and Madam Pomfrey both glared at her.

Sheepishly, and somewhat reluctantly, she admitted, "my whole body hurts, and my head is pounding."

Poppy nodded as if she'd been expecting precisely that answer and she turned to pick up a potions vial from the table beside the bed. "It's a mild pain reliever," she said as she uncorked the vial and Hermione helped Harry to sit up enough to drink. "It shouldn't make you drowsy, but if you feel tired be sure to let me know."

Harry made a face at the taste of the potion but couldn't deny that it worked fast as the pains in her body and in her head dulled to something considerably more manageable in mere moments. Hermione stacked several pillows behind her so she could sit up more easily, then handed her a glass of water, helping to steady the glass as she drank, removing the taste of the potion from her mouth.

"I believe she should be fine for a while," Poppy stated, turning her attention to Madam Bones who was waiting patiently. "But I will be staying here for this discussion, and if I see her becoming any more distressed I _will_ put an end to it. It can be continued another time."

"Understood, Poppy," Madam Bones agreed, deferring to the mediwitch. She flicked her wand and a piece of parchment and a quill rose up from where they'd been resting on her lap to float nearby where she could see what was being written before she cleared her throat and turned her attention to Harry sitting in the bed.

"Miss Potter-"

"I'm sorry, would it be possible for you to just call me Harry?" Harry interrupted, her face twisting into a slight grimace. "'Miss Potter' is really going to take some serious getting used to."

"Of course," Amelia said. "Harry, you've made a number of accusations tonight against several different individuals. Severus Snape, Bartemius Crouch, and Albus Dumbledore. I'd like to go over each of them, one at a time if that's okay with you?"

"Absolutely. Should I start with Crouch?" she asked.

"That is as good a place as any."

Harry took a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. "Sirius Black is innocent of the crimes that he was accused of and Barty Crouch is guilty of illegally imprisoning him, without a trial. Sirius is also my Godfather and my legal, Magical Guardian, as far as I know."

To her credit, Madam Bones didn't react beyond a pair of raised eyebrows as she gestured for Harry to continue. With Hermione's help, Harry explained the events that took place the year before, how Pettigrew was her parents actual Secret Keeper, how he faked his death, how he hid as a family pet for more than a decade, and how it all was revealed to them at the end of the school year, minus any mention of time travel, as Madam Bones' quill swept back and forth across the floating piece of parchment, dutifully recording every word.

"Why was this not brought to my attention?" Amelia asked once they were finished, her gaze directed at Dumbledore, who had remained silent during the entire recitation.

"I had no proof to offer, since Pettigrew escaped. Nothing to show that our claims were valid."

"I don't give a damn!" she snapped. "It should have been mentioned to me so I could have begun an investigation. At the very minimum, if Black really didn't receive a trial, then he's entitled to one. He _should_ simply be declared innocent as Ministry law does not allow anyone to be held for such a length without charges being filed and a trial taking place. As Chief Warlock you should be aware of that, Albus!"

Her mouth suddenly snapped shut as she appeared to bite back whatever else she was going to say and she took a moment to visibly gather herself before turning her attention back to Harry.

"Harry, I promise you as soon as I go into the office tomorrow morning I will have the trial records searched for. If there aren't any, I _will_ be starting an investigation into Crouch and former Minister Bagnold and I will see to it personally that Black gets a trial."

"If he should just be declared innocent then why can't you just do that?" Harry asked.

"I could," she admitted, "but the public perception would still consider him guilty. With a trial, he'll get a chance to publicly clear his name and remove any possible doubt of his innocence. Especially if he would be willing to testify under Veritaserum."

Harry considered that for a moment. "That makes sense, I guess. Minister Fudge will probably try to stop you though," Harry pointed out. "He was there that night, and absolutely refused to believe us when we tried to tell him that Sirius was innocent, or that Wormtail was still alive."

"I can handle Fudge, don't you worry about that." She sat back in her seat and took a calming breath. "Let's move on to Severus Snape," she said. "We will save your grievances with the Headmaster for the end, as I feel that will be a much longer discussion."

"Snape hates me-"

"It is Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore cut in. "He _is_ your professor and you should give him the respect that he deserves."

"_You_ can call me, 'Miss Potter,' old man," Harry hissed. "I have never given you permission to use my first name, and I've noticed that I'm the only student you talk to that way. You never refer to Ron or Hermione by their first names, it's always Mister Weasley, or Miss Granger. And respect is _never_ deserved, it is earned.

"_Mister_ Snape is a piss-poor professor, as I've already said. All he does is put the potion we're supposed to make on the board and tell us to start brewing, then he walks around the class insulting, belittling, and generally terrorizing any student not in Slytherin. He lets the Slytherin students sabotage our potions, that's negligence and child abuse, and then takes points away from us or awards the Slytherins for their own potions.

"He's taken points from Ron for things like blinking too loud. He's insulted my father, me, my friends, and anyone else he can get away with. He's a bully, and a Death Eater, and he hasn't earned the right to be called a Professor."

"Severus is no more a Death Eater than I-"

"So that's just a funny tattoo that he has on his arm?" Harry shot back, cutting the old man off. "Huh, could have fooled me. Or are you admitting to being a Death Eater too?"

"Severus made a mistake in his youth, but he returned to the side of the light and became a spy in Voldemort's ranks."

"If that's the lie you want to tell yourself, fine. I don't have any reason to believe that and plenty of reasons not to."

"I have been telling you for years, Albus, that Severus does not behave in a professional manner," McGonagall spoke up, her Scottish brogue unusually thick. "You've ignored me, Filius, and Pomona at every turn, and I'm ashamed to say that I've let you, but no more. As Deputy Headmistress it is my duty to ensure the Professors in this school uphold the standards of teaching that we are supposedly known for. I will be speaking to Severus and letting him know that he will be on Probation for the remainder of this year, and I will also be speaking to the students to ensure that he starts actually teaching his subject in a manner that befits this institution."

_Way to go, Professor,_ Harry thought, staring in shock at the visibly angry witch.

"As far as being a Death Eater, Severus Snape has already been pardoned of any involvement by the Ministry. I will be looking into his involvement in the incident last year while I am investigating Black's trial, but I honestly don't believe that I will find much. Under the circumstances, he could easily argue that he felt he was assisting to apprehend a dangerous criminal, there's no proof either way.

"I'll leave it up to Minerva to handle him here at the school, but don't be afraid to speak up if you need to," Madam Bones interjected before Dumbledore could argue against his Deputy. "There are provisions that state that a student can hire private tutors for any subjects where they are at odds with the professors if need be, and from what I know of the Potter Family, you would more than be able to afford to do so."

"You mean I could have hired someone to teach me potions and I wouldn't have had to deal with Snape all this time?" Harry asked. When Madam Bones nodded Harry threw her free hand up in disgust. "Why does no one ever tell us these things?"

"A vast majority of students, or their families, would not be able to afford to hire private tutors on top of the expense already paid simply to attend this School, Miss Potter," Professor McGonagall informed her. "The information was listed in the introductory packet that was given to each muggle born or raised student."

"What introductory packet?" Harry asked. "I never got a packet of anything. All I got was my letter and book lists when Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley before first year."

"You let _Hagrid_ handle Miss Potter's return to our world?!" McGonagall practically shrieked, rounding on the Headmaster.

"Hey, Hagrid's great!" Harry tried to defend her friend.

"Please do not misunderstand me, Miss Potter. Hagrid is a dear friend and we all love him, but to be completely fair and honest, he isn't exactly the most… _professional _member of the staff."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione and had to concede that Professor McGonagall had a point. As much as she loved Hagrid, he _did_ have a number of flaws and blind spots in his reasoning.

"It has always been my duty, as Deputy Headmistress, to handle the introductions to our muggle born and raised students. When Albus told me he would take care of your introduction, I thought he meant that he would go himself, otherwise I would have insisted on speaking to you."

"Must not have wanted you to find out about the Dursleys," Harry muttered, glaring furiously at the old man.

"Why is that, Harry?" Amelia jumped in, her sharp eyes fixed on Harry.

Harry shifted slightly in her spot on the bed. She knew this needed to happen, she'd _planned_ for this to happen, actually, but that didn't make the moment any easier to deal with now that it was upon her.

"I… I d-don't like to talk about it…" She trailed off and looked around, her eyes pausing briefly on Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Dawlish. "Can you please put up some privacy screens, Madam Pomfrey? I'd rather only have to show you, Madam Bones, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall."

Immediately Dawlish and the Headmaster began to protest and Harry, her nerves already stretched taut, snapped.

"Unless you want us to consider you a bunch of pervs and paedophiles, if you've got a dick, get the fuck out!" she screamed and Kingsley grabbed Dawlish by one shoulder, silently dragging him to a far corner of the room.

"Now, Headmaster," Poppy growled.

With a long sigh the Headmaster pushed himself to his feet, his armchair vanishing silently and he moved over to stand near the two Aurors, his shoulders slumped and head slightly bowed.

In moments a set of privacy screens were erected around the bed, enclosing the women and the two students. Harry was fighting back a wave of frustrated tears, _Be angry!_ she thought. _Angry is easier._

She blinked when a potions vial suddenly appeared in front of her, held in a familiar hand, and she looked up questioningly at Madam Pomfrey.

"Calming Draught, dear," the mediwitch explained in a soothing tone of voice. "You're getting too worked up and I feel this might be needed."

Silently Harry took the vial and downed it, instantly feeling the effects of the potion spread through her.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she asked as she handed the vial back.

"Yes, dear?"

"Umm… not to be… I mean… well how come you're being so much nicer than usual? Not that you're not nice, it's just usually you're a little more…" She trailed off, flushing brightly and unsure just how to explain what she meant.

Luckily, Madam Pomfrey seemed to understand and just gave her a small smile. "Usually you're in here because you've done something foolishly brave or reckless. Tonight however is entirely no fault of your own, so my usual admonitions do not apply."

She patted Harry's hand and stepped back. Harry nodded, pushed the thin blanket aside and, ignoring the residual pain, turned and threw her legs over the side of the bed as Hermione stood and moved slightly to the side to make room and help Harry sit up.

"Woah… that felt weird," she muttered, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong," Hermione asked and Harry looked up at her, suddenly flushing again.

"N-nothing," she stammered.

"Harry…" Hermione's voice trailed off with a warning tone.

"Nothing's wrong… really!" she added at her friend's disapproving frown. "Just… when I moved my… my chest… uh… shifted? It felt weird."

A soft pink rose in Hermione's cheeks and for a moment her eyes darted down toward Harry's chest before her entire head jerked back up and she let out a nervous sounding laugh.

"Yeah, that can happen, Harry. We'll have to see about getting you some support."

_That_ was a topic Harry was very much not ready to deal with, so she simply shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the buttons to her striped pajama top.

Despite the Calming Draught, Harry's hands were shaking so badly that she could hardly undo the first button and, after a minute of fumbling, a hand covered hers and she looked up into a worried cinnamon gaze.

"Let me help," Hermione murmured softly. After several moments Harry sighed and lowered her hands to her lap, silently nodding her head for Hermione to proceed.

In different circumstances, at a different time, Harry felt the next few moments might have been an extremely pleasant experience. Hermione's fingers were deft, easily undoing each button and working down the front of her top. As she moved lower, she leaned further towards Harry, the tangled mass of her bushy hair swaying forward to brush softly against Harry's cheek in a cascade of vanilla scented curls.

As it was, she barely registered these things save for one small corner of her mind, the rest of her attention fully focused on staying calm. A pair of hands coming to rest on her shoulders startled her, and Harry realized that her best friend had finished, her top was lying undone but still drawn closed, covering her.

Awkwardly, she held the blouse closed as she shifted the left side of the garment, painfully trying to free her shoulder and arm. Noticing the difficulty Harry was having, Hermione helped her pull her left arm through the sleeve. Harry then shifted to using that arm to cover her new breasts as she shrugged off the top, letting it fall down her right arm and pool behind her on the mattress. Reaching up with her free hand she gathered as much of her hair as she could from where it now concealed most of her upper back and pulled it over her right shoulder, to bare the entirety of her back to the three august women behind her.

A hissing sound came from somewhere behind her, and she wasn't at all certain which of the women created it, only that it certainly wasn't Professor McGonagall as her Head of House had broken out into a stream of cursing, the woman's Scottish brogue thicker than ever and making her almost completely unintelligible.

Harry knew exactly what they were seeing. She'd checked herself often enough to have a perfect mental picture of the myriad of long scars that criss crossed her back from the tops of her shoulders down to just above the curve of her arse. One, the worst one of the bunch, actually curled over the top of her right shoulder and ran diagonally down her back nearly to her left hip.

Pushing herself to her feet, her eyes lowered to the ground in front of her she turned to face the adult witches, visibly forcing herself to lower the arm she was using to cover her breasts as she heard a choked sob from Hermione behind her as her friend saw the scars across her back for the first time.

Across her front were more twisting scars at least three of which crossed over her breasts with the rest running mostly horizontally across her abdomen. Quickly, she covered herself again and turned back around, almost falling to her seat on the bed.

"How is it that I have never seen these, Miss Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a tight, strangled tone that did little to hide just how furious she was. "I have examined you on more than a few occasions, and I've seen you without a shirt before. There were never any scars."

Harry spent a moment attempting to put her top back on, but she found it awkward and too difficult to manage with just one free hand. Just as her frustration was beginning to brim over, a pair of hands pulled the garment up over her shoulders and held it closed in front so she could work her left arm back into the sleeve.

She had no trouble with the buttons this time, closing them quickly. She looked up into her best friend's tear filled eyes, just before Hermione's arms wrapped around her and the girl began to sob openly on her shoulder.

"I didn't _want_ anyone to find out," Harry admitted, carefully turning on the bed and bringing her friend with her so both of them were sitting on the thin mattress as she turned her attention back to Madam Pomfrey. All three women appeared furious she saw, and she flinched for just a moment before forcing herself to calm, Hermione's arms tightening almost painfully around her.

"In first year, when I found out that the Quidditch team showers were an open locker room style, I went looking for something to hide them. I found an advanced glamour charm in the library and used that to make sure no one would know."

"How were you able to cast it in your first year? Glamours are notoriously tricky and should have been beyond you."

"Professor McGonagall told us in our first week that a lot about magic has to do with intent. Well… my very strong intent to hide them was really, _really_…" She shrugged. "I guess that made up for me being so new to magic."

"Why would you want to hide them? We could have helped you. I assume they are because of your guardians?" Madam Bones asked.

Harry nodded, her voice fading to a near monotone the longer she spoke, "My Aunt and Uncle hate magic and anything to do with it, especially me. Anything that went wrong was always my fault, even if it happened miles away from where I was. Any accidental magic always resulted in at least getting locked in my cupboard for days or a beating at worst. This scar," she held a hand to her right shoulder, knowing they would know which one she meant, "was an early sixth birthday present, actually. I wasn't thinking, and at Dudley's birthday party I asked Uncle Vernon if I'd get any presents for _my_ birthday. He waited until after the other kids were gone before he grabbed me, pulled off his belt, and whipped my back. Said that's all I would be getting for a birthday present and I should be grateful for that much."

"What cupboard?" Madam Bones asked, easily just as furious as anyone else.

"The cupboard under the stairs was my bedroom from the time I was dropped off there until the day my first Hogwarts letter arrived. It was addressed to me in my cupboard. Vernon and Petunia were so paranoid that someone was watching them they moved me into Dudley's second bedroom."

"And Dudley is…?"

"My cousin. It's a four bedroom house. Vernon and Petunia in one room, Dudley's room, a guest room, and the last room was for all of Dudley's broken toys and junk that he didn't want anymore."

A moment later the privacy curtains vanished and a loud 'SMACK' tore through the air as Minerva McGonagall stormed across the room and slapped the Headmaster across the face so hard that he nearly fell to the ground, stumbling several steps just to keep his balance.

"Ah teld ye, Albus!" she shrieked, rearing back to hit him again until Kingsley leaped forward and grabbed ahold of her, preventing her from physically assaulting the Headmaster a second time. "Ah teld ye they were the worst sort of muggles the night _YE_ insisted we leave the wee bairn there!"

"I assure you that it was for the best that Miss Potter remain with her family."

"Tha thu gòrach, dall, bleeding àrdanach, gobhar fucking, seann BASTARD!"

Everything else Professor McGonagall said after that devolved into such a mess of garbled Scottish slang, and her accent became so thick, that not a single one of them could even begin to hazard a guess as to what she was saying. Her red, furious face, enraged tone, and the way she continued to try to hit, and even kick, at the Headmaster told the story well enough.

A shrill whistle tore through the room causing everyone to freeze, their attention turning to where Madam Bones was lowering her fingers from her mouth. Even Professor McGonagall's rant cut off mid stream as she shifted to focus her attention on the formidable woman of law enforcement.

"That's quite enough of that, Minerva. I understand that you're angry, believe me, I do, but what kind of example are you setting for Miss Granger and Miss Potter?"

Harry marveled at the fact that, with two simple sentences, Minerva McGonagall suddenly looked like any of her students that she'd caught doing something they weren't supposed to, just before House Points were taken and detentions assigned.

"Everyone, come back over here and sit," Amelia demanded. Wordlessly they did so, Kingsley releasing Professor McGonagall with a muttered apology to which she simply offered him a small smile and reached up to pat one of his broad shoulders.

"Miss Potter, Miss Granger," Minerva said before taking her own seat. "I would like to apologize for my behavior. It was completely unbecoming of me as an adult and as your professor and Head of House."

"Perfectly all right, Professor," Harry told her, waving off the apology. "In fact, I think that's the most I've ever seen any adult stick up for me before, so, thank you for that."

Once they were all seated, save for her Aurors who stood not far behind her ready to act if needed, and with her quill and parchment floating in front of her once again, Madam Bones practically growled, "I believe that it is past time for us to get to your grievances with the Headmaster."

Harry nodded shakily, exhaustion creeping in, and her pains getting worse the longer things went on. She shifted Hermione so that the two of them were sitting side by side on the bed, and though Hermione had stopped crying by that point, she was still wiping away the tears on her face with her left hand. Harry took Hermione's right hand in her left and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning her attention to the Headmaster where he sat in another squashy armchair at the foot of the bed.

"I think first I'd like to ask the Headmaster a question," Harry decided after considering where to start. "Since you are the one that made sure I spent most of my life not knowing… what's my actual name? I seriously doubt that my parents named their daughter Harry."

Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand for a moment before replacing his glasses on his nose.

"I would be very interested to learn how it is you know some of the things you've revealed tonight, Miss Potter," he started as most of the women bristled angrily, "but I understand that is very much not my place. Especially not at this particular point in time."

He leaned back in his chair and laced his long fingers together, placing the palms of his interlocked hands flat on his chest over his beard.

"When you were born, your parents named you 'Harleen Janine Potter,'" he said. "Never have I seen a couple so attuned to each other, or so devoted to their child. They very much loved you with every fiber of their beings. If you believe nothing else that I say, please, I implore you to believe that."

Harry made sure that her face showed nothing, but internally she had to admit that she was impressed the old man went for direct honesty. She'd almost expected him to attempt to hedge around the topic.

"Why was I left with the Dursleys, and why did you change me into a boy?"

"First, may I hear the answer to a question?"

"That depends on the question."

"When the Aurors and I were banished, from your comments I infer that some of your clothing was removed in order to show something to the ladies present. Am I correct in assuming the thing shown was scarring or other evidence of mistreatment?"

Harry didn't answer but the sob that broke free from Hermione's mouth appeared to be answer enough as Dumbledore's eyes slid closed and he let out a shuddering breath.

"Dear girl, I cannot begin to apologize enough for whatever it is that you have been through." His eyes opened and he sat up straighter in his seat. "When your parents were killed, I had to find somewhere safe for you to live. Somewhere that could be protected against dark magic and those that would wield it in revenge of their fallen Master.

"I set up blood wards around your Aunt's home, as your closest living blood relative as long as you resided there then there was no way anyone from the magical world intent on doing you harm would have been able to find you. In fact, those wards _did_ prevent more than a few attempts on your life over the years. I confess I knew life would not be easy for you there, but your safety from Voldemort's followers was paramount."

"No one with magic may have been able to hurt me, but that didn't stop the people I was forced to live with from doing their damndest to 'stamp the magic out of me,'" Harry snapped.

"What about altering her gender?" Madam Bones cut in.

"And why did I forget that?" Minerva added. "I was there that night. I was there the night she was _born. _I _knew _that Miss Potter was not a boy."

"As I said, I knew her life would not be easy, though I did not suspect it would be as bad as it apparently was, but the safety of the wards made it a small price to pay in my mind at the time. However, a young girl living in that house might have had a far worse time. Plus, an orphaned heiress of a Most Ancient and Noble House would have been pursued most vigorously by many factions of our society and I felt it best to prevent that until she was old enough to handle it.

"It was best to alter her gender, for her own protection. Once that was done, I hid the knowledge that she had ever been female under a modified Fidelius charm with myself as the Secret Keeper."

"You had no right to do any of that!"

Harry blinked, her attention turning to the bristling, furious brunette at her side in utter shock.

"No, Miss Granger, I dare say I did not. However I did only what I thought was best, under the circumstances. My intentions were pure, as terrible a result as they may have become."

"There's a muggle saying, old man," Harry growled out. "'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions'. You had no right to do that to me. There must have been other people that could have taken me in. Alice Longbottom was my Godmother. Neville's Gran could have raised me. I could have grown up with a brother. I could have grown up in my proper skin.

"Can you even guess what I don't know about being a girl that I _should_ know? That I'll have to learn quickly? I… this body _feels_ right in a way I never even noticed that being male felt _wrong,_ but I don't know what to do. Everything is weird and off balance and…"

Harry trailed off, frustrated and furious, unable to further articulate what she wanted to say.

"I'll help you, Harry. I promise, I'll make sure you learn what you need to know," Hermione told her, wrapping one arm gently around her shoulders.

"No place but your Aunt's home offered the same level of protection. I also felt it would be best growing up away from the fame you would have been subjected to living in this world," came Dumbledore's argument.

"Do you honestly think Madam Longbottom would have let me get a swelled head or an overdeveloped ego? There's so much I need to know that I don't because you kept me from this world. Not just about my being a girl, but about my family, my history, my place in our society. I'm going to be the head of a Most Ancient and Noble House one day, and I don't know the first thing about what that entails.

"Did you even consider that the transformation you forced on me used my own magic to maintain itself? How many times have I faced a shade of Voldemort already and I haven't been at my full strength!"

"What do you mean by that, Miss Potter?" Madam Bones jumped in, a sharp look in her eyes and Harry let out a tired groan.

"It's a long story," she hedged, lifting one trembling hand to her head.

"Is it something the Headmaster would be able to answer?" Poppy asked, her wand already out as she stood and approached the bed, diagnostic spells flying as soon as she was close enough.

"He could," Harry reluctantly admitted. "Do you trust him to actually tell the truth?" she added with a look to Madam Bones.

"I will offer an oath, if it will make you feel better, to truthfully answer Madam Bones' questions on this matter," the Headmaster interjected. "I… I am more sorry than I can properly express for the mistakes I have made. I only hope that you can understand I was only doing what I felt was for the greater good."

Harry's eyes narrowed angrily at that damnable phrase, but she was simply too tired and unsteady to blow up at the old fool any more than she already had and simply let it go for the moment.

Madam Pomfrey bustled about the bed, laying out a few potions and gently chivvying Hermione out of the bed and back into her chair. "If Miss Potter is not directly needed any longer then it would be best if she rested," she said.

"Can Hermione stay? Please?" Harry asked, aghast at how small her voice sounded but unable to help herself.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall exchanged a look and their Head of House simply nodded once.

"That will be fine."

"Our friends are probably waiting for me," Hermione spoke up, turning to Professor McGonagall. "They're all worried about Harry."

"I will go and inform them of what has happened. Rest assured, Miss Potter," she added at the panicked look that stole over Harry's face, "I will keep out any private information. They will know only about your transformation, and that being a girl is how you should have always been, were it not for... _outside _interference."

Somewhat mollified, but still not entirely comfortable, Harry nodded her assent and focused on getting back under her blanket so she could lie down. Around the bed next to hers a new set of privacy screens were erected so that Hermione could change into a set of the hospital pajamas.

Closing her eyes, Harry let her thoughts drift, waiting for quiet to be restored to the Wing, and for sleep to claim her.


	5. Step One

**Author's notes: Since we've already broken 100 reviews for this story I decided to give you guys a treat and post chapter 05. Nothing major to say with this chapter. Some more discussion, some pushing things along and some more planning and maneuvering being pulled off by Harleen. As I said in last chapter's notes, in this chapter Harry starts being referred to as Harleen almost entirely in narrative and the only times that she'll be called 'Harry' is when another character is talking to her and uses the nickname instead of her full name. **

**Disclaimer: I still do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I'm just playing dress up with the characters. **

**Without further ado I give you Chapter 05 of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Step One…

by,

Rtnwriter

Cinnamon colored eyes opened slowly to take in the darkened ceiling of the Hospital Wing above her. Hermione blinked a few times, confused for a moment as to why she was there, but then her mind suddenly finished waking up and the memory came crashing down on her. She shot up into a sitting position in bed, turning immediately toward the bed on her right to find the form of her best friend curled up on her side beneath the Hospital blanket.

Even in the darkened gloom offered by the pre-dawn hours, she could see the raven tresses of Harry's much longer hair spread out across her pillow. It was also very clear that the shape of her friend's body was smaller, more slender than she'd been before.

_It really happened,_ she thought in awe, unable to tear her eyes away from the girl across from her for a time. Eventually, she managed to turn and with shaking hands she carefully poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher that always rested on the bedside table, downing half the glass in three long gulps.

Slowly, carefully, she set the glass down and slipped from her bed to cross the three feet that separated her from the person she'd loved for ages but never imagined she could actually be with.

_Harleen,_ she reminded herself as she dropped into the chair next to Harry's bed, smiling as the name resonated through her mind. After a moment she shook herself and forced her mind to focus. _Okay,_ she thought, _what did you actually learn last night? First, your best friend, that you've thought was a boy all this time, is apparently _really_ a girl now. _She shook her head. _No, not 'now', she was always supposed to be a girl… Okay, I can deal with that. It'll be nice to have a girlfriend- _

Her mind stuttered to a halt as she realized what words she'd thought seconds after they'd occurred to her. She blushed furiously, shaking her head wildly back and forth as if attempting to physically dislodge the thought from her mind.

_Not like _that! she thought. _I mean, it'll be nice to have an actual friend that's a girl. Not like Lavender and Parvati._ Absently, her eyes trailed over Harleen's form. _Not that I'd be at all against the idea, but… Merlin what is _wrong_ with you, Granger?_ she berated herself, her thoughts expanding to encompass a few more details of what she'd learned the night before as tears suddenly stung at her eyes.

_You call yourself her best friend and you never noticed that he was being abused by his relatives. She'll probably be in rough shape for a while and here you are, thinking of putting the moves on her? Taking advantage of her? Hell, you don't even know if she's attracted to girls!_

Groaning quietly she lowered her head into her hands. _I thought boys were the ones that thought primarily with what was between their legs._

"You are a terrible friend, and a horrible person, Hermione Granger," she muttered under her breath, hands clenched into fists against her forehead.

She started several seconds later, her head snapping up to gaze into a drowsy pair of nearly luminescent green eyes when she suddenly felt a gentle touch against her knee.

"Hey," Harleen whispered, "no one insults my best friend. Not even her."

Hermione's mouth opened but no words escaped. Instead, a small sob burst free and she found herself slumped forward on the mattress, crying quietly as one of Harleen's arms came around her, one hand gently caressing Hermione's hair.

"S'wrong, love?" she mumbled in a groggy, slurred voice.

"I-I've b-been an awful friend to you," Hermione sobbed. "How can I claim that you're m-my best friend and not have noticed what you were going through?"

Somewhere at the back of her mind, Hermione registered that this was the third time that Harleen had used the word 'love' in connection to her. She quickly became a mess of anxious hope mixed with bitter disgust with herself over how she kept thinking of the girl lying in the bed.

Harleen let out a sigh, her hand never stopping its motion against Hermione's bushy curls. A handful of minutes ticked by in near silence, broken only by Hermione's sobs, before her tears finally slowed.

"You didn't notice, Hermione, because I didn't _want_ you to notice. I've gotten very good at hiding those things over the years, and I didn't want anyone to know." Harleen's words were no longer slurred, but she still sounded extremely tired.

"But why? Like Madam Bones said, if you'd let someone know then couldn't they have helped you?"

"In hindsight, I could argue that the Headmaster might have obliviated anyone that tried, since he was so insistent that I was safest at the Dursleys." She blew out another breathy sigh. "But back then I couldn't have suspected that possibility. Honestly… I was afraid... and ashamed," she whispered so quietly that Hermione almost didn't hear her.

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask again. It didn't make sense to her to not ask for help when it was so obviously needed. Why wouldn't she want someone to help? Hermione suddenly felt the mattress shift as Harleen moved and after a few seconds, she realized that the other girl had shrugged.

"I felt ashamed, because I felt that it was all my fault, that maybe I deserved it somehow. I was afraid… I was afraid that I'd lose you from my life if you ever found out how worthless and horrible I really was."

Hermione's head snapped up, an extremely loud protest ready to spring from her lips when Harleen continued speaking. "I understand _now_ how wrong that was, but back in first year?" She shook her head, causing some of her hair to fall across her face. "It took years of having good friends, and people that actually care about me, for me to see what was there and how wrong it was."

She raised one hand and brushed the hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear in a gesture that seemed at once foreign and also completely natural, as if she'd done it a thousand times before even though Hermione knew that, until a few hours ago, her friend's hair had never been long enough for her to have ever performed such an action.

"Can we just agree that I know better now? You can stop beating yourself up and we can just move on?"

Her expression was pleading and, lying there, her small frame dwarfed by the bed, she looked so beautiful and vulnerable that Hermione honestly had to force herself not to simply gather the girl in her arms and hold her close. Instead, she nodded, smiling tearfully and went about drying her face.

"There's a lot you didn't mention last night," she murmured quietly once she'd managed to collect herself. "Like asking Dumbledore your name. You already kn-"

She stopped speaking when two slender fingers landed gently on her lips.

"Not here," Harleen hissed without any ire. Lifting her head she looked across the room to where a portrait hung on the wall, its occupant seemingly asleep. "The walls in this castle literally have ears, and eyes," she whispered, turning her attention back to Hermione, her green gaze worried. Hermione's own eyes widened before darting briefly toward the portrait as her mind began to spin wildly.

_Of course, _she thought, _no wonder the Headmaster always seems to know what's going on in the school. The paintings must report to him._

She frowned as Harleen removed her fingers from her lips and placed her hand on the mattress next to her head. If they couldn't talk about the answers she had been promised… what could they discuss? _Honestly, going to bed and trying to get some more sleep is probably a good idea but… I don't want to stop talking to her._

Hermione sat up slowly, a small smile coming to her lips as a thought occurred to her and she suddenly held out her hand, causing Harleen to blink slightly in surprise.

"You introduced yourself," Hermione reminded her. "I think it's only right I get to do the same. I'm Hermione Granger, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Harleen Potter."

Slowly, Harleen sat up in the bed, her face expressionless for a short time until she suddenly smiled and a loud laugh burst out of her, quickly smothered by her hands covering her own mouth, green eyes dancing in merriment. Once she collected herself she accepted the hand in a firm shake, both girls grinning at their silly behavior, but the air between them suddenly felt so much lighter than it had before.

"It's very nice to meet you, Hermione," Harleen said.

They released each other's hands and Hermione leaned back in her chair. "How are you feeling about all this?" she finally asked. "Honestly. Your change has to be… off-putting at best, I would imagine."

Harleen shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I'm not worried that I'm suddenly a girl when I always thought I was a boy before. I mean… aside from a bit of worry over everything I don't know about actually _living_ as a girl. It's hard to describe, but I meant what I said before. Being this… my body feels _right_ to me in a way I just can't describe, and now that I've changed I realize that being a boy always felt wrong, I just hadn't noticed it before. But I can't explain why, or how, any more than I can explain how this body is right."

There was clear frustration in her voice, her brow furrowed into a deep frown.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione offered. "Seriously. If it feels right to you, listen to that feeling. You've always been one to trust your instincts more than most, and they haven't steered you wrong yet. If your body is telling you that it's right the way it is, listen to it."

Harleen considered that for a moment, absently playing with the end of a lock of her hair with one hand. Her cheeks suddenly darkened, her expression shifting into one of acute embarrassment.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, sitting up sharply in her seat, concern suddenly filling her.

"Ummm…" Harleen shifted nervously on her bed. "I just realized something my body is telling me," she mumbled, looking down at her lap.

Hermione waited a moment and when the other girl didn't continue she prodded gently, "Well? What is it?"

She mumbled something again that Hermione couldn't catch and she frowned slightly.

"What? Harleen, I couldn't understand you."

The other girl let out a frustrated sigh and spoke up again in a slightly stronger voice. "I need to pee."

Hermione blinked sitting back in surprise for a moment before she suddenly flushed as well, realizing just why her friend had appeared so embarrassed.

"W-well… okay. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Natural bodily function and all. Umm…"

"I'm sorry… could… do you think you could help me to the loo? I'm just… I'm still sore and I feel a little wobbly."

Hermione practically jumped to her feet, moving closer to the bed to help. "Of course," she said, taking hold of the other girl's arm when it was offered, helping her to her feet. Harleen winced a few times but didn't say anything as the two of them started shuffling their way across the Wing to the restroom. Hermione kept one arm wrapped around Harleen's waist as they walked, trying to offer support without squeezing too hard as she was sure her body had to ache still.

"Don't forget that you'll need to sit to go," she pointed out and the girl beside her nodded, her cheeks still flushed. They were nearly half way there when another thought popped into her head and she bit her lip for a moment before voicing it. "Uh… also… I'm not sure if you know, there's little reason you should, but… you also don't want to forget to wipe."

Harleen came to a stop, looking up at her in confusion. "What?"

"Even if you just need to pee, you still need to wipe," Hermione told her, keeping her eyes fixed on their destination.

"You're kidding," Harleen blurted out a moment later and Hermione couldn't help but let out a short, nervous laugh.

"Not at all. There's… you know what? I think that you're going to need some anatomy lessons, but for right now just trust me. Wipe, and do so from front to back. You'll want to get into that habit right away as the other direction can cause problems that you do _not_ want to deal with."

Harleen simply stared at her for several moments, looking very nearly horrified when Hermione chanced a look at the other girl out of the corner of her eye.

A moment later the raven haired girl let out a huff, eerily reminiscent of Hermione herself, and started moving forward again. "This was seriously much simpler as a boy," she grumbled under her breath. "I'm really sorry," she said again when they reached the door, her eyes directed at the ground in front of her. "As embarrassing as this whole thing is for me this can't be any easier for you. You can get Madam Pomfrey if you don't want to-"

"Did you want me to get her?" Hermione cut her off. "I really don't mind, but I'll get her if you-"

"No!" Harleen blurted out looking up at her friend. "No I… I trust you more than anyone in my life, Hermione, but I don't want you to help me if you'd rather-"

Hermione covered the girls mouth with her hand again. "There is no scenario that exists," she insisted, staring into her eyes. "Yes, this is awkward, and embarrassing, but you are _absolutely _the most important person in my life. I would never leave you to flounder if I can do something to help you."

For a moment she thought that Harleen was going to cry as her eyes visibly filled with unshed tears, but in the next moment she'd blinked them away and was nodding her head before she turned and carefully shuffled her way, alone, into the restroom, closing the door behind her.

Hermione leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh, feeling some tension easing from her body as she did so. "Well… that was awkward. And anatomy lessons? That's going to be even worse. Maybe I _should_ ask Madam Pomfrey for help? She is a medical professional after all, it'd probably be better coming from her. She would certainly be able to impart the appropriate information without feeling like her cheeks were going to burst into flames, at the very least."

Hermione continued to mutter to herself for several minutes until the door opened and Harleen stepped out, wobbling slightly until Hermione moved closer and wrapped her arm around the girl's waist again, carefully helping to lead her back toward her bed. Neither of them said a word the entire way until they reached the side of the bed and Harleen turned and looked up at her.

"Thank you," she mumbled awkwardly, but the genuine gratitude in her voice came across and Hermione smiled, pulling her friend into a hug. When she pulled back, her smile faltered to see Harleen frowning, almost scowling actually as she swayed in place slightly. _She must still be feeling those potions,_ Hermione thought.

"What's wrong?" she asked as Harleen turned and crawled her way into her bed and back under her blanket, turning until she was lying on her left side, facing toward Hermione's bed. She pulled the blanket up as Hermione sat in the chair again and leaned forward so that her arms were resting on the bed.

"You're taller than I am, again," Harleen practically whined in a rather petulant tone that completely startled the older witch, causing Hermione to nearly burst out laughing before she managed to catch herself.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Harleen huffed again, her eyes drooping slightly as the late hour began to catch up to her after the rough evening she'd had.

"You're about… what? Five foot four?"

Confused, Hermione nodded. "Yes, why?"

"Yesterday I was about an inch taller than you. Since we met I was always shorter than you, and just about everyone else, but yesterday I was taller, and now you're taller again. I must be five foot even, if I'm lucky."

She seemed irritated and that was beginning to worry Hermione slightly for reasons that she adamantly refused to think about, not while Harleen was still recovering, at least.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, unsure if she was able to keep the worry out of her voice.

Harleen shrugged one shoulder awkwardly and pulled her arm out from under her blanket, letting it rest along her side.

"No, not really. It's just… I _liked_ being taller than you."

"Why is that?"

"...It's silly."

"Tell me anyway?"

Harleen groaned quietly, her face screwing up in annoyance for a moment before she sighed and relaxed against the bed. "When you hugged me the day I got to the Burrow this summer and I noticed I was taller than you, finally, it… it felt nice. It wasn't much of a difference, and I know-" she broke off for a moment as a yawn overtook her, "I know you don't _need_ me to protect you, but being taller I kind of felt… I don't know, protective of you. You were smaller in my arms and I just felt like I was shielding you... or something…" she trailed off again before she snorted and turned her head, looking up toward the ceiling.

"I told you it was silly," she muttered.

"No," Hermione stopped her, a warm feeling growing in her chest. "No it's not silly at all. If that's how you felt, then that's how you felt, and there's nothing wrong with that. But… well… why do _you_ have to be the one protecting _me_? Can't… can't I protect you? Would that be so terrible?"

Harleen's head turned back, vibrant green eyes glittering in the dim lighting for a moment as she stared at her friend.

"No," she said, finally, reaching out with one hand to tuck a stray curl behind Hermione's ear. When she spoke again her voice had dropped to a whisper. "No, that's not terrible at all. It… it might actually be pretty good."

The hand by her ear shifted, a warm palm suddenly cupping her cheek and before she realized what was happening Harleen leaned forward and an indescribably soft pair of lips came into contact with her own.

It could barely be called a kiss. The merest featherlight brushing of their lips but it stunned Hermione with the suddenness of it and when Harleen pulled back, letting her head rest on her pillow once again, Hermione's lips tingled from the memory of that soft caress.

In seconds, Harleen's eyes fluttered closed and her breath evened out as sleep took her, a small smile on her face.

#####

When Harleen opened her eyes again the light in the Hospital Wing told her that it was well and truly morning. Probably close to eight o'clock from the angle of the light coming through the windows above her. She came awake groggy and confused, a state that rapidly cleared up as her brain kicked itself into gear, only for her to become aware of voices in quiet conversation nearby and she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position in her bed, slipping on her glasses as she turned her attention to the two women sitting a short distance away.

"... Riddle was a student here in the 40's," Amelia Bones was saying. "Earned an award for Special Services to the School during the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco back then."

Harleen blinked several times as the much older witch sitting next to her nodded a few times, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I vaguely remember hearing about Tom Riddle. I had long since graduated by the time he attended, of course, but I heard people around the Ministry talking about him and how promising a young man he appeared to be. He disappeared after graduating though, and I think he turned up as a clerk in some shop in Knockturn Alley for a while before he vanished again. Off exploring the world most likely."

"Are you kidding me?" Harleen practically shrieked, startling the two women and Hermione, who was still asleep in the bed next to hers, with the sudden volume of her exclamation. "Is that what Dumbledore told you last night? That Tom Riddle was a gifted student and nothing more?"

"Which is precisely why I am here this morning to speak to you again, Harry," Madam Bones said. "Dumbledore said a lot last night, but none of it seemed to be of much importance. I didn't get the feeling that you are the kind of person to bring up unimportant things for no reason. I questioned him about the shade of You-Know-Who that you mentioned, but he said that you had encountered a follower of his in your first year and a dark artifact enchanted by him in your second."

Harleen turned to look at Hermione, who was now sitting up in her own bed, the two girls exchanging an incredulous look before Harleen started cursing extensively under her breath.

"Harleen! Language!" Hermione snapped and Harleen sighed.

_Guess the leeway she gave me yesterday has ended. Must not have wanted to jump down my throat right after my change._

"I really didn't want to have to go over all of this," she moaned, rubbing one hand over her face, and then irritably brushed her hair back from where some of it had fallen forward. "Okay, how do people deal with this?" she muttered.

"Here, let me help."

Harleen said nothing as the bed beside her shifted and she felt Hermione gathering her hair together and pulling it back from her face, seconds later her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. She had to admit it felt much better no longer covering her ears and brushing against her neck the way it had been.

"Thank you," she muttered, glancing back at the girl behind her with a shy smile. She really wanted to spend that morning talking about the kiss she'd given the other girl the night before. She hadn't intended to kiss her at that time, but she'd been so out of it, and Hermione had looked so beautiful and earnest, she just hadn't been able to help herself.

_Now is not the time,_ she thought, turning her attention back to Madam Bones and the mystery woman beside her. Based on the handbag the woman was clutching on her lap, she imagined this was Madam Longbottom but decided to wait before continuing with introductions.

"Where's my wand?" Harleen asked looking around.

Hermione silently grabbed it off the bedtable beside her and handed it to the younger girl.

Copying Tom's own trick from the Chamber of Secrets, Harleen then fire wrote "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in the air, before swishing her wand across it to cause the letters to rearrange themselves into a very shocking message to the two older ladies.

Over the next hour, Harleen and Hermione explained the events of their first and second years at Hogwarts. Quirrell possessed by the wraith-like Voldemort and the shade of Tom Riddle that came from the diary. They carefully kept Ginny's name out of the story, merely referring to her as a student that had been controlled by the diary.

By the time they finished Madam Longbottom looked as if she was sucking on a whole lemon, her lips were pursed so tightly in disapproval, and Madam Bones appeared ready to tear someone to pieces with her bare hands, most likely Dumbledore.

"Thank you, girls," she said in a tightly controlled voice as she stood, stowing her quill and a new scroll of parchment in her robes. "If you'll excuse me, I have an old man's arse that I need to kick. Augusta, it was a pleasure seeing you again."

She nodded to the older woman then turned and made her way from the Hospital Wing while Madam Pomfrey came bustling over, her wand in hand to begin examining Harleen again.

"Really?" she complained. "I'm feeling much better."

"Be that as it may, Miss Potter, I will not be letting you leave this Wing until _I_ am satisfied as to the state of your health."

Grumbling under her breath Harleen sat back and let the matron go about her business and within minutes the examination was over.

"Well, you've healed very well from the injuries you sustained last night. I imagine there will be some lingering ache, and you'll likely tire quickly during the next couple of days, but you should be back to one hundred percent by the weekend at the very latest.

"You can leave today, as I'm sure you'll have quite a bit of business to take care of, but I'll ask you to take it easy, and I want you back here tonight. I'd like to keep you for one more evening just to be sure there are no untoward side-effects of the change you've undergone. Why don't you girls go get ready for the day, shower and change into some clean clothes? I will have breakfast waiting for you when you're done."

"None of my clothes are going to fit," Harleen pointed out. "I noticed that I'm a lot shorter than I was yesterday," she added, frowning irritably. _Back to being the resident midget_, she thought.

"I will have some of your clothes brought from your dorm and I can shrink them down a bit so they should fit you," Madam Pomfrey offered.

Their visitor chose that moment to speak up. "I received your letter yesterday, Miss Potter," she said, pulling their attention toward her. "Once you've refreshed yourself, I would like to discuss it with you."

"Of course, Madam Longbottom, and thank you for coming in person, I was only expecting a letter, if any response at all."

"After I heard about what happened last night, a letter would not have been sufficient," she said, making no comment on Harleen correctly stating her identity. "I should like for my grandson to be here when we talk?" The lift in tone at the end of her statement shifting it into a question.

Harleen nodded. "Of course," she said again. "Would you mind if Hermione was present as well? She's my best friend and I trust her more than anyone."

Madam Longbottom turned her attention to Hermione, studying her closely for a moment before nodding her head. "I see no issue with that," she agreed, rising smoothly to her feet. "Miss Granger? Perhaps you would be good enough to walk with me on your way to your dorms?"

"I'll be back soon, Harleen," Hermione said, quickly squeezing her hand before she exited the Wing with Madam Longbottom. As they left, Harleen could hear the older witch say to Hermione, "Don't you worry about keeping pace with me, my dear. I may be getting on in years but I feel I am still rather spry for my age. Tell me, would you happen to be able to guess which class my Neville might be in at this time?"

Left alone, Harleen headed for the shower and stripped out of the hospital pajamas and took advantage of the privacy offered to take a bit of time to inspect her new body in the mirror before jumping into the shower. She decided quickly that she liked her face much more as a girl than she had when she was still a boy. The softer features felt right to her, and her eyes seemed larger, slightly more almond shaped than they had before.

As far as the rest of her body… well she had only her own observations to go by but she personally felt, if not for the scars, she was pretty damned hot, but perhaps Madam Pomfrey could help with those now that the Matron knew of them. She thought she was too skinny, but not as bad as she'd been during the summer after dealing with the Dursleys. Her hips were wider, her body holding curves to it that it hadn't before.

The scars across her front, especially those that ran over her new breasts bothered her even more than they had before, her eyes kept being drawn back to a pair that formed a sort of cross over her heart, but her wand was still sitting on the bedside table so she was unable to recast her glamour.

As far as her breasts were concerned… she honestly had no idea what to really think of them. They were just… there. She was no expert in the size or shape of women's breasts, but she felt that what she'd ended up with were slightly large for her frame. Sighing she realized she really was going to need to invest in different undergarments and was sure it was going to be a thoroughly mortifying experience.

Her eyes trailed down from her breasts, across a flat and toned abdomen, _Quidditch was good for something_, over a narrow waist, to the mess of black curls between her legs, before she suddenly jerked her head back up. _Stop perving on yourself, Potter... but,_ her eyes darted down again for a moment,_ I wonder if Hermione likes hair there..._

Shaking her head against the direction her thoughts had turned, and with her inspection completed, she showered as quickly as she could, not wanting to keep everyone waiting for too long. Exiting the shower she found a set of her uniform clothes folded on the counter by the sink. She dried off with one of the supplied towels, spending far longer than she ever had before attempting to dry her hair.

"Gods, I'm getting this mess cut as soon as I can," she grumbled when she felt that the mass of hair was as dry as she was likely going to get it without a charm and quickly dressed. Boxers went on, as she had nothing else, and her slacks fit well enough, though they were a little tight in the hips. Socks and shoes followed, then a white tank top that she typically wore as an undershirt. It was when she went to put on the dress shirt that went with the uniform that she ran into a problem.

Frowning, she opened the door and headed out into the Hospital wing, the dress shirt held in one hand.

"Madam Pomfrey?" she called. "I'm sorry to bother you, but-"

"Harry!"

Harleen jumped, startled at Hermione's loud exclamation, and dropped the shirt she was holding, looking around wildly in surprise. "What?" she blurted out. "What's wrong?"

Standing near her bed was Hermione, Madams Longbottom and Pomfrey, and an extremely red in the face Neville Longbottom, who spun around to stare at the far wall as Harleen watched.

"What's going on?" she asked, more confused now than worried.

Hermione was equally as red as Neville and was looking everywhere but at Harleen. "Harry James Po- wait… um…" She trailed off, mid-outraged shout, into a confused silence and Harleen had to force herself not to grin at the other girl's flustered state.

"Not my name anymore, love," she quipped, causing Hermione to turn and glare at her.

"What do you think you're doing, coming out here like that?" Hermione all but snapped.

"Like what?" Harleen asked, now completely confused and a look of dawning realization suddenly stole over Hermione's face as she let out a resigned sounding sigh.

"Harleen? Look down, would you?"

Harleen complied, and instantly flushed just as brightly as either one of her friends as she let out a yelp and snatched up the dress shirt off the floor, holding it in front of her chest.

When she'd dressed, apparently her skin had still been a bit damp, and the cool air had caused her nipples to harden without her noticing. Her tank top had been shrunk along with the rest of her clothes and clung to her body's new curves like a second skin. The end result being that the white material was very nearly see through in some spots and there were two distinct points on the front of her chest.

Turning, she practically fled back into the restroom and slammed the door behind her.

A moment later there was a knocking at the door.

"Miss Potter?"

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey!" Harleen called, almost frantically, through the door. "I-I didn't realize-"

"Quite all right, Miss Potter, but I believe you were trying to ask me something?"

Harleen lowered the lid on the toilet and sat down, shirt still clutched to her chest and buried her face in her hands. "You can come in," she called, not wanting to face anyone, but aware that she couldn't simply hide in the restroom for the rest of the day.

The door opened and two sets of footsteps reached her ears entering the room. Once the door closed again, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her and the scent of vanilla tickled at her nose.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Hermione whispered.

"It's okay," Harleen mumbled.

"No, it's not okay." Hermione pulled back and pulled Harleen's chin up so she was looking her friend in the eyes. "I shouldn't have yelled. A top like that is not sufficient for a girl to wear, especially without a bra. But it's not your fault you didn't think of that. You're not used to this, and I should have remembered that."

"I believe everyone will require a period of adjustment," Madam Pomfrey interjected. "What was it you were trying to ask me, dear?"

Hermione released Harleen and stepped back, allowing her to address the Mediwitch.

"Um… this shirt doesn't fit," she said, lifting the shirt in her hands slightly. "It won't close over… over my chest," she finished, flushing brightly again.

Madam Pomfrey blinked a few times before letting out a sigh. "Goodness, I didn't even think of that. Miss Potter, I am sorry I should have considered the difference in body type. Your shirts are all cut for a male body and don't take a feminine shape into account."

"That's fine, Madam Pomfrey," Harleen said, waving away the apology, "but what can we do about it?"

"Well… Miss Granger? Might Miss Potter borrow one of your school blouses? I can shrink that down instead."

Hermione immediately nodded her bushy head. "Absolutely. Harleen can borrow anything she needs."

Within minutes, one of the castle elves had brought a new blouse and Madam Pomfrey quickly shrank it a bit and offered it over to Harleen before she gently ushered Hermione from the room, leaving the raven haired teen to finish dressing.

She sat for a moment longer, simply staring at the garment in her hands. "I honestly never thought I'd be in a position to have to wear my girlfriend's clothes," she muttered before pausing again in thought. "Well… not my girlfriend yet," she added, smiling softly as she pulled on the blouse and buttoned it after just a bit of a struggle.

"Everything okay?" Hermione asked when she exited the restroom again, fully dressed, though still thoroughly embarrassed.

"Well enough. I had a little trouble with the shirt but I figured it out."

"What was wrong with it?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"The buttons are on the wrong side." Harleen frowned down at the front of the blouse for a moment before shaking herself and directing her attention back to Hermione. "It just threw me off for a moment."

A laugh was not the response Harleen expected, but was exactly what she got, and she gave her best friend a questioning look.

"That's just the way women's clothes are made. The buttons are typically on the opposite side of what's normal for men's clothing."

"Why is that? That seems kind of silly."

Hermione opened her mouth to answer when she was interrupted by an amused looking Madam Longbottom clearing her throat.

"You will have plenty of time to discuss things later," she said. "I do believe we have other issues to handle right now, do we not?"

Harleen winced slightly but quickly composed herself as best she could, nodding to Madam Longbottom and a still flushed looking Neville. "Right," she said and quickly crossed the rest of the distance to sit in her bed while everyone else took their seats. A tray popped into existence on the bedside table and the enticing smells of breakfast caught her attention for a moment but she ignored it.

"First, Neville, I'm sorry about what just happened. I haven't been a girl again for even a full twenty-four hours yet, so there's some things I'm just not quite used to."

"That's okay," Neville mumbled, flushing a bit more and looking down at his lap.

"Madam Longbottom? Before we start, could you possibly do something to prevent the portraits from being able to hear us? I'd rather not have what we say be reported back to any bearded individuals."

The elderly witch considered her for a moment before nodding and she removed her wand from her sleeve. A quick wave and a muttered incantation later and every painting in the room suddenly had a thick, heavy black cloth draped over them.

"There. None of the paintings occupants will be able to see or hear past that charm," she said as she put away her wand. "Please, eat while we talk," Madam Longbottom told her, indicating the tray with one hand. "You must be famished, and there's no reason you can't multitask."

Gratefully, she took the tray and placed it on the bed, beginning to eat as Madam Longbottom pulled a familiar roll of parchment from her bag.

"In your letter," she began, "you indicated that you wished to request the Protection of House Longbottom. May I ask you why would you need House Protection, and why House Longbottom in particular?"

Harleen took her time chewing what was in her mouth as she thought over just how to respond to that question. Finally she swallowed and set her fork down before she leaned back against the rail at the head of the bed with a small sigh.

"Did Madam Bones happen to tell you anything of where and how I grew up?" she asked.

"She did not. Any information you may have given her, especially as a minor, is held in confidence save for those that must be informed. Courts, Judges, Healers if necessary, and so on."

"I grew up with muggle relatives who hate everything to do with magic. My life there was… unpleasant, at best. I have scars on my body as a result of living there that I can't show you without a set of privacy screens and us kicking Neville out of here."

She paused, frowning thoughtfully for a moment before looking up to meet Madam Longbottom's gaze. "I was made to return there each summer after school, even though I wasn't wanted and I wasn't loved. I don't want to go back there. Right now it would be even worse for me, as my Aunt and Uncle sent their nephew to school and they'd be getting back a niece.

"As far as I know, Dumbledore has been claiming to be my Magical Guardian. But he's the one that sent me to live there. He's the one that kept sending me back. And he is also the one that has failed to keep me, or the other students in this school, safe for the last three years. Now, I'm entered into this tournament. My life is in danger, _again_, and I want to get out from under Dumbledore's control.

"I know enough to understand that he could be a great ally to have in the future, and I believe I could work with him. He _is _a powerful and brilliant man... most of the time. But I can't work with a man that simply sees me as another piece on his chess board. I need some autonomy, some degree of control over my own life that I have been denied until now. But I also know that I need adults, more experienced than I, to help me and support me."

Neville and Hermione both looked extremely curious as she spoke, questions burning behind Hermione's cinnamon gaze while Neville simply absorbed what she was saying. Madam Longbottom showed no change in facial expression whatsoever. Harleen had absolutely no clue how to read the woman, and it was starting to make her nervous.

"Why House Longbottom?" she simply asked, still giving nothing away to indicate her thoughts.

"I don't know much about the wizarding world and British wizarding society," Harleen admitted. "Like I said, I grew up completely muggle. I didn't even know I was a wiza- I mean a witch until my eleventh birthday when I got my letter to attend Hogwarts. But I _have_ learned a few things very recently. I learned that House Potter and House Longbottom have been friends and allies for centuries. Potters and Longbottoms have married into the families on more than one occasion. They've stood by each other through everything for a long time, and I hoped that our families' history together might endear you to helping me.

"I have also learned that this society is largely male dominated and that, as a half-blood heiress to a Most Ancient and Noble House, I suspect that I will be a target to some of the pure blood families out there. I figured that a woman as formidable as I've heard you to be would be of significant help in navigating these situations, so I can avoid anything happening to me that I don't want."

"It is my understanding that you sent this letter yesterday morning," Madam Longbottom said, holding up the letter that she still held in one hand. "It is also my understanding that you did not know about your true gender until yesterday evening. So how is it that you were considering your place as an 'heiress' and not an 'heir'?"

_And here's where things get a little dicey,_ Harleen thought, carefully keeping her own face as blank as she possibly could. _I'm gonna need a flow chart to keep track of which people I've told what information and what story I've used to justify how I know it._

"I'd been considering looking into House Protection for a little while," she lied, "but yesterday morning I woke up, very early, after an extremely unusual dream." She held up one hand to forestall Madam Longbottom as the older witch opened her mouth. "I understand dreams are not something normally to be taken seriously, but this one was different. I was told a lot of things. Too many things simply to be the product of my subconscious or an overactive imagination.

"I spent a lot of yesterday doing research and trying to verify some of what I'd learned, and I verified other things when I could. I accurately predicted each of the champions that would be chosen by the goblet. I even knew how many of the Beauxbatons' girls would break down into tears at _not_ being chosen, all because of that dream. The final piece, in my mind, that proves what I learned is real would be this." She waved one hand, indicating her new body.

"I was told that I would encounter an artifact, and that artifact would strip away any magic that was on me. Potions, charms, compulsions, glamours… anything at all, it would all be removed. I didn't exactly believe the person in my dream telling me that I'd been born a girl, but he pointed out that _if_ I was actually a boy, then nothing would happen. But if I was wrong, if I was actually the daughter of James and Lily Potter, then I would be returned to the body I should have had all along."

She shrugged. "I honestly didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did, but I think the end result speaks for itself."

"What else did you learn in this dream?" Madam Longbottom asked curiously.

Harleen shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I can't say. I actually signed a contract that said I could not speak of what I learned except to one, specific person, and even that person I am not allowed to tell everything. I'm not really certain how binding a contract signed in a dream could be, but after this whole contract I apparently have with the Goblet of Fire, I'm honestly not willing to take that risk."

Madam Longbottom considered that for several long, silent minutes, as the three teens observed her. Eventually, as the time wore on, Harleen returned to her breakfast, eating quickly but carefully. When she finished the older matron shifted slightly in her seat, leaning forward to look carefully at Harleen as she set her fork down on the empty plate.

"Miss Potter, it would be my honor to offer you the protection of House Longbottom and to keep you as a ward under our care until you are of age and capable of properly defending yourself," she said and Harleen couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh.

"That being said, I do have to ask what offer you make in exchange for our Protection?"

Harleen winced. "That, I don't honestly know, as I have no idea what holdings or finances my family had, or what is currently available to me. I sent another letter to Gringotts, asking for whatever information they could provide, but I haven't received a reply yet. I would be willing to offer an Alliance between our Houses when I'm of age and able to do so. I am also open to other negotiations, but one thing I absolutely would have to refuse is any form of betrothal or marriage agreement between House Potter and House Longbottom."

She ignored Hermione's sharply drawn breath at that statement and glanced over at Neville, an apologetic smile turning her lips. "No offense, Neville. You're a great guy, and I know you're going to grow into an amazing and powerful wizard, but you just really don't do anything for me."

Neville was blushing furiously again, but he was also smiling softly. "None taken, Harry. Honestly, you're gorgeous, but I don't see you as anything more than a good friend." He frowned for a moment. "Wait… is your name still Harry?" he asked. "I mean… I-I don't think your parents named their daughter 'Harry', did they?"

Harleen laughed at that, some measure of tension draining out of her with how well Neville was taking the whole thing. "My name is Harleen," she told him, smiling brightly. "Harleen Janine Potter. But you're welcome to keep calling me Harry if it's easier for you. I've answered to that name for more than a decade, I'm not likely to suddenly forget it."

A sharp clap caught their attention and they turned back to Madam Longbottom.

"A promise of a future renewal of the Alliance between our Houses is more than sufficient," she said, bringing them back on track. "Until you are of age, you will be a ward of House Longbottom, and I will be your Legal and Magical Guardian. Is that acceptable to you, Miss Potter?"

"Perfectly acceptable, Madam Longbottom."

A second later a bright flash of light lit the Hospital Wing and Harleen found herself blinking rapidly to clear away the spots.

"Well then, you are welcome to call me Augusta, dear," Madam Longbottom told her in a much gentler tone of voice than she'd been using up to that point, smiling softly. The expression on her face quickly morphed to one of mild disapproval as her eyes seemed to move around Harleen's head for a moment before returning to her face. "Why have you done nothing with your hair?" she asked.

Harleen blinked and glanced at Hermione, who looked distinctly amused.

"What should I have done with my hair?" she asked, looking back at Augusta. "I did the same as I always do."

The older witch made a clicking sound with her tongue. "I see," she said, "but as we've already established _you_ are not the same as you have always been until now. Your hair is much longer and you simply must at least brush it and dry it properly or it will become rather hopelessly tangled."

Harleen flushed at the gentle reprimand and fidgeted slightly on the bed. "I… I don't actually own a brush," she admitted. "When my hair was shorter… well it was always a mess no matter what I tried so I just kind of gave up on it years ago. Nothing I did ever made any difference."

Augusta made that clicking sound again and a moment later her wand was in her hand and pointing at Harleen who darted for her own wand for a moment, instinct taking over, before she forced herself to calm and sat up, blushing even more furiously. Augusta made no reaction save a raised eyebrow.

"I am merely going to cast a charm to dry your hair for you. I can't imagine it's comfortable with it still wet like that?"

"No, Augusta, it's not… and thank you," Harleen murmured contritely.

"It is not a problem at all, dear." Quickly she waved her wand and Harleen felt a wash of warm air rush over her, drying her hair and the back of her shirt in just a few seconds.

"If you're finished with your breakfast, we need to be going. I've already cleared things with Minerva and all _three _of you are excused from your classes for the rest of the day."

"Wait… what?" Harleen and Hermione both asked, nearly in unison. Harleen was feeling decidedly off balance as Augusta seemed in a sudden hurry.

"We're going to be spending the rest of the day in Diagon Alley," Augusta explained. "I believe you wouldn't mind having a couple of friends accompany you?"

"Not at all, but… why are we going to Diagon Alley?"

Neville's Gran suddenly stopped where she was leading the three of them across the Hospital Wing toward the Floo located in Madam Pomfrey's office and turned to look her up and down for a moment.

"You have absolutely no clothes that fit you, or are meant for a young girl's body. Nor do you have any of the incidentals that a young lady needs, like a hair brush. We are going to be replacing your wardrobe, and picking up anything else that you need before you have to face the rest of the school."

Harleen looked down at herself, suddenly reminded that she was wearing a shrunk down pair of her dress slacks as well as one of Hermione's uniform blouses. Even her trainers had to be shrunk several sizes as they'd been too big for her suddenly much smaller feet. A glance at Hermione showed that her best friend had realized the same thing and she turned back to look up at the tall, no-nonsense woman before her.

"Well," she said. "I guess we're going shopping."

As they resumed their trek toward the Floo, Harleen couldn't help but smile to herself at just how well things were going. _Step one: work on getting out of Dumbledore's control,_ she thought. _This is at least a good start._


	6. Arguments and Shopping Trips

**Author's notes: Hello, gang. So here we are again with the obligatory shopping trip chapter. I'm hoping I've managed to do something different with this one so that people still find some entertainment and I'm not just retreading old paths that others have repeatedly written. **

**In other news, there appears to be a bit of confusion that I feel needs to be cleared up. First, guest reviews that complain about something are really annoying because I cant respond and explain or discuss with the reviewer. Also guest reviews that make incorrect assumptions are a bit difficult. So to the guest reviewer that dislikes the name Harleen since it is a 'New Age American thing that was invented by Paul Dini and Bruce Timm for Harleen Quinzel of the Batman Animated Series'. Please do a little research. **

**Harleen was not a name created by those people for use with a cartoon character. It has Hindi and Old English roots, they didn't invent it. As an Old English name it was first popularized in the 1930's and hit the height of its popularity in 1983. Please try not to assume.**

**Anyway, moving on. **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. **

**Here be Chapter 06 of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Arguments and Shopping Trips

by,

Rtnwriter

"Is she always like this?" Neville asked, leaning over to whisper the question to Hermione, a bemused expression on his face.

Hermione sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It had been somewhat amusing at first, she'd felt, for them to watch as Harleen attempted to argue with Madam Longbottom, but the debate had been going on for nearly ten minutes now, and she was starting to get impatient.

The whole thing started as they were exiting the Leaky Cauldron to enter the Alley proper, Harleen had asked if they could stop at Gringotts first so she could withdraw some money from her vault before they began shopping. Augusta's response, that House Longbottom would be paying for everything she needed, resulted in the argument currently coming to a head.

"Unfortunately," she muttered back to the boy beside her, "You know how stubborn she's always been."

"Augusta! I am more than capable of paying for my own things! My parents left me plenty of money, I can afford it," Harleen finally snapped, glaring up at the much taller witch from behind her battered, clunky glasses.

Augusta Longbottom drew herself up, a pinched expression on her face as she looked down at Harleen. "It is not a matter of whether or not you can afford it," she explained in a stern tone. "It is a matter of the honor and integrity of House Longbottom. You are a minor witch, my ward, and you are under the protection of my House. As such, it is my duty, as well as my responsibility, to provide for your needs. Food, housing, medical care, clothes, your school supplies, all these things and more are the duty of House Longbottom to provide for you.

"You attempting to get around that is an insult to our House and a mark against our honor." The look she leveled at Harleen could have withered a Venomous Tentacula, Hermione felt. To her great surprise, her best friend did not shrink or back down from the harsh stare, though her stance became considerably less combative as she let out a long breath.

"That isn't at all what I meant," Harleen said in a much calmer tone of voice, her posture relaxing even more as she spoke. "I just… you're already doing so much for me. Accepting me under your House's Protection with only a promise of alliance that I won't be in a position to fulfill for at least another three years. Helping me with this trip as well…" She shrugged helplessly. "I just didn't want to be even more of a burden. I can earn, or pay for, my keep."

Her last sentence was spoken in such a quiet tone that Hermione almost missed it.

Augusta obviously heard it as well, her expression softening before she placed one hand on Harleen's shoulder, prompting the girl to nervously look up at her.

"You have already said that you grew up in a home devoid of love," she said softly, "and at some point, I will wish to hear the whole story, but now is not that time. For now, all I will say is that a child should _never_ have to earn their keep. It is the responsibility of the adults to care for that child and not to expect payment in return."

Harleen flushed and fidgeted nervously for a moment. "I know that," she muttered. "I just… I'm not always sure that I _believe_ it."

Augusta said nothing more, simply waiting quietly for a few moments before Harleen spoke again.

"Well," she said, squaring her shoulders and straightening up to her full, diminutive height, "thank you, very much, Madam Longbottom, and… can we just pretend that I graciously accepted the aid of House Longbottom without making an utter fool of myself in public?" she asked with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

The stern witch's lips quirked up into a small smile and she patted Harleen's shoulder before pulling her to her side in a gentle embrace.

"I can't remember a single moment where you might have made a fool of yourself, young lady," she said, turning to face the brick wall that was the entrance into Diagon Alley. She drew her wand from her sleeve and tapped the appropriate bricks, turning slightly to look at the three students as the archway appeared, she asked, "well, shall we?"

Without waiting for a response she strode off into the Alley, Neville following dutifully right behind her. Hermione blinked, slightly startled by the matriarch's abrupt change and shot Harleen a look before the two girls hurried to catch up, Harleen falling into step beside the Longbottom Matriarch in order to speak with the woman.

As they walked, Hermione allowed her thoughts to wander. Inevitably, they centered on the girl walking in front of her. So many questions hummed through her mind that she could barely stand it. Harleen's change, both in tenement and demeanor was at the forefront of her thoughts. Since the previous morning her friend had been very different. She seemed more mature, and more world weary. At times there would be something about the girl's eyes that Hermione could only describe as 'haunted'. However, every time she noticed it, it would vanish shortly after.

Emotionally, Harleen seemed to be swinging wildly from one extreme to another. Realistically, that was almost to be expected considering what she'd been through. Even before the physical change she'd experienced, Harleen had suspected it was going to happen and that kind of life altering knowledge could hardly have been easy to deal with.

_And she dealt with it entirely on her own. She didn't say anything, not even to me. Not really. A mention of an odd dream wasn't exactly her confiding in me on what was happening to her._

_Plus, none of that takes into account the other worries she must have for what's ahead,_ she thought sadly. Harleen was right when she'd expressed her concern over how people would treat her now. Everyone would be shocked. Some would likely handle the situation better than others. Some would doubt, or possibly ridicule her. Others might try to take advantage of her.

At the end of the day, Harleen had no idea what she was in for. Aside from the physical aspects of being female that she still had to learn, she had never experienced the social. She had no idea what women dealt with that men simply didn't have to. Social norms of behavior, the expectations that people would have of her…

Hermione frowned, shaking her head as she followed the rest of them into the first shop on Madam Longbottom's list for this trip, Madam Malkin's.

_I promise I'll help you, Harleen,_ she swore to herself. _And I'm going to help you get through this tournament, too. Whoever put your name into that goblet is going to be in for a surprise._

With that new determination settled in her mind, Hermione pushed aside her thoughts and focused her attention on the tasks ahead of them and on helping her friend. Everything else could wait a little longer.

#####

"Augusta, it's such a pleasure to see you again so soon," Madam Malkin said as she bustled out of the back room, instantly noting their presence in her shop. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

"I am escorting my new ward to the Alley today for a new wardrobe and incidentals," Augusta informed the shop owner, one hand coming to rest gently on Harleen's shoulder. "The poor girl has absolutely nothing a young lady needs, so we'll be getting her fitted from the ground up today."

Madam Malkin's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise and Harleen cringed as the woman's attention shifted to her. "A new ward?" she asked, "How interesting." Straightening up, she folded her hands in front of her and her eyes scanned across the three students standing in her shop.

"Young Master Longbottom I recognize, of course. A pleasure to see you again, young man."

"Pleasure to see you as well, Madam Malkin," Neville answered, bowing slightly in the woman's direction.

"You I recognize as well, young lady, but I'm afraid there are so many students that pass through here and I've never had much of a head for names," Madam Malkin said apologetically as her attention shifted to Hermione.

"Hermione Granger, Madam," Hermione introduced herself.

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm sure I'll remember in the future." With that her attention shifted back to Harleen again, a considering expression on her face as she looked her up and down quickly, leaving Harleen feeling suddenly, and inexplicably, self-conscious in her mismatched and ill fitting clothes. "You, however. My dear, you are such a lovely thing. Something about you seems vaguely familiar, but I'm quite certain I've never seen you before."

"Before we get to that, Gloria, I'll have to ask you to keep your silence that she was ever here."

Madam Malkin jerked in surprise, her eyes snapping toward Augusta. "Augie?" she blurted out in a shocked tone.

"It will likely be all over the Prophet, soon enough, but please, the poor girl will be dealing with quite a lot in the coming months, and I would appreciate it if you never told anyone she came here."

"Well, I don't make a habit of speaking about my patrons to others, though confidentiality isn't exactly a requirement in my line of work." She blinked a few times, as if attempting to arrange her thoughts before nodding her head once. "If you need it, you have my word, Augusta."

Harleen let out the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding and offered the woman a small, timid smile. This whole shopping thing was a far more nerve wracking experience than she'd expected it to be and they were only on the first shop!

Quickly, Augusta gave Madam Malkin an abbreviated version of the events that had occurred the night before. Harleen lifted her bangs to show off the lightning bolt shaped scar above her eye, to the woman's dumbfounded surprise. To her credit, she recovered quickly and simply accepted Augusta's word on the matter.

"Well, Miss Potter, I can understand why you need to be completely outfitted, given the circumstances." She paused, humming thoughtfully for a few moments as she paced a circle around Harleen, looking the girl over from every side while Harleen did her very best not to fidget in place. "Well, to start with we shall simply have to get you some proper undergarments. I can't imagine that you borrowed someone else's and it is simply not right for a young lady to be… unencumbered."

_Yeah,_ Harleen thought, blushing furiously again as Neville muttered something under his breath and moved over to take a seat near the door, _this is going to be a completely mortifying experience._

Before she truly realized what was happening, Harleen found herself hustled off into the back with Augusta and Hermione in tow.

"Now Miss Potter. If you'll remove your shirt, I'll get you properly measured."

A startled squeak escaped Harleen's mouth as she felt her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. "I-is that really ne-necessary?" she stammered, shooting a frantic look in Hermione's direction, who was giving her a sympathetic look.

"Of course it is. A proper bra isn't as simple a thing as most people seem to think it is, and measurements through clothing simply will not do. It will never feel comfortable or fit quite right, now come along."

Harleen shook her head violently, backing away from the woman as if she might suddenly attack at any moment. "No. I can't… I can't do that."

"Harleen, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, moving toward her.

Harleen shook her head again, unable to catch her breath as panic started to claw at her when a gentle hand touched her arm and her head snapped around to stare into Hermione's worried gaze.

"I don't… I didn't get a chance…" Harleen glanced at Madam Malkin for a moment before leaning closer. "I haven't recast my glamour," she hissed.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly before her face took on a pensive expression, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

"Well… are you sure you really _need_ the glamours?" Hermione asked, hesitantly. At the incredulous look that Harleen gave her over that question, she rushed to explain. "I mean, you'll have to show them to Madam Longbottom eventually, right?"

Reaching out she took hold of Harleen's hands, gently rubbing the back of them with her thumbs. "She's your guardian now, and she will need to know in order to follow up with Madam Bones in a case against your relatives. Also, Madam Malkin has already sworn that she won't tell anyone that you were here, so she can easily promise not to tell anyone about the scars while she's at it, right?"

Harleen ducked her head, refusing to meet Hermione's eyes. "I've been hiding them for so long. Pretty sure I only managed yesterday because of the Calming Draught and because I had your help."

"Think of it this way," Hermione offered. "New body, new life, new start. You don't have to hide who you are, or what you've been through. The people that will make a big deal out of it don't matter, and the people that matter won't care."

Some of the burgeoning panic that she'd been feeling bled away as Hermione spoke. Harleen wasn't sure if it was because of the words she chose, or because of the way she was still rubbing small, soothing circles on the backs of her hands. Either way, she appreciated the way her best friend always seemed to be able to get through to her where no one else would have had a chance.

_Is that part of being soulmates? _she wondered.

"Ladies," Augusta cut in, drawing their attention to her where she was watching them with a curious expression on her face. Blushing slightly, Hermione dropped Harleen's hands and the raven haired teen did her best not to pout at that loss of contact.

"Madam Malkin deals with all kinds. I promise you, this wouldn't be the first time that she's come across something a client would rather not become publicly known.

"She won't say anything, and your friend is right, dear," she added to Harleen. "I _do_ need to see what kind of damage was done. Wouldn't you rather get that done with in one go as opposed to having to disrobe here, then again elsewhere? At least this way we do something else productive with our time. Multitasking, remember?"

There was a small smirk turning up the older witch's lips and Harleen felt her own lips twitch slightly in response. Probably as close to a smile as they were going to get from her for a little while.

Taking a deep breath, Harleen moved across the room and up onto the small platform where fittings were done as her hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. "All right," she muttered. "Let's just get this over with."

With her back to the room, Harleen quickly divested herself of the uniform blouse, stumbling for only a moment over the buttons, and dropped the item on the floor. Immediately she could hear the two older witches muttering under their breath behind her and it took her a moment before she remembered that her tank top exposed the scar across her shoulder.

Before her nerves could get the best of her, she yanked the tank top over her head and dropped it on top of the blouse on the floor. Before leaving the school, Hermione had tied her hair up for her again, and she shivered as the strands brushed against her bare upper back. Perhaps five seconds of silence passed before she heard Madam Malkin mutter something under her breath and suddenly a tape measure was wrapping itself around her torso, just below her breasts.

"Are there more?" Augusta asked as the tape measure loosened and moved up to wrap around her chest, directly across the front of her breasts.

Harleen nodded. "On my front," she managed to say without stuttering. Moments later the tape measure was gone and Augusta stepped around in front of her, her eyes taking in the scars across Harleen's body. Thankfully, Harleen felt, her new guardian didn't spend long inspecting her half-naked body and instead quickly glanced off to one side. A moment later a plain black bra floated into view and Augusta plucked it from the air before she handed it over to Harleen.

No words were spoken as Augusta helped her slide her arms through the straps and then up to her shoulders and she felt a gentle pair of hands close the back for her. Hermione walked around to stand by Augusta, already holding out her tank top and blouse, which Harleen quickly put on, feeling significantly better as soon as the scars were covered.

"There's a few tricks to latching a bra properly," Hermione said in a slightly tremulous voice. "I'll explain them to you later."

Silently, Harleen nodded, her arms wrapped around her body and feeling… small, lost, uncertain in a way she really couldn't define or understand. She just felt violated, somehow, but wasn't sure how or why. She flinched when a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around her in a gentle hug, but she didn't pull away as Augusta held her.

"I'm sure you must feel awful right now," the older witch murmured, "But believe me, it does get better. I don't have personal experience, but my son was an Auror and I have helped with the victims of some of the cases he had during his career. I've seen it get better for them, and it will get better for you."

Harleen nodded again, fighting back the tears that wanted to well up as Augusta stepped back.

"Now. I do believe that we can see about getting you the rest of your wardrobe," she said. "One brassier obviously will not be enough, and you'll need knickers as well, so why don't we get that settled and we can see about the rest of your clothes. Have you any thoughts on colors?"

Harleen blinked, thrown off balance by the sudden direction shift of the conversation and shook her head.

"Cut and style is something to consider as well." Augusta cast a sidelong look at Harleen as Madam Malkin directed them toward a section that had more lace in it than Harleen felt she'd ever seen in one place. "Comfort and practicality should be your primary concern. You're a bit young to be worrying about how someone else might see you in your undergarments, but that doesn't mean you can't own a few risque pieces," she added with a small wink and Harleen's mouth dropped open as a furious flush colored her cheeks.

"No!" she blurted out, struggling not to shoot a glance in Hermione's direction as she did her very best _not_ to consider the possibility of a specific someone else seeing her in her underwear.

It would be some time before she realized that Augusta Longbottom was purposely trying to distract her from her more negative thoughts, but when she did, she would feel a swelling of gratitude for the old woman.

Eventually, she managed to leave the lingerie section of Madam Malkin's shop with a simple selection of bras and knickers. Something most would describe as not being particularly sexy, but that was far from high on her list of priorities. The full covering bra she had on and a pair of boy short knickers did the job they were supposed to do and that's all she was worried about, thank you _very _much.

They moved on to the rest of her wardrobe after that, Harleen feeling as if she was caught in a whirlwind of cloth, colors, and designs, and she deferred to the ladies in the shop for their experience and expertise in the matter. It was only when the subject of skirts and dresses came up that she tried to put her foot down.

"I've never worn a skirt before and I don't intend to start now," she insisted after five minutes spent arguing with the two older witches. Hermione stood off to one side, hiding a smile behind her hand but Harleen could tell just how amusing her best friend found the entire situation.

"You might not want to, but the school uniform requires that all witches wear skirts," Augusta shot back.

"Why can't I keep wearing my slacks? I've been doing that for three years already."

"Because the uniform requires it, as I've already said." Augusta stopped and let out a sigh, lowering the simple, knee length, black skirt that she was holding in one hand. "Harleen… I can't begin to imagine how difficult this has to be for you, but you can't cling to the conventions of dress that you held as a boy. You are a young lady now, and while trousers may be acceptable for ladies to wear these days, the School Charter _requires_ that during class time you have to wear a skirt."

Harleen scowled mulishly at the offensive piece of fabric in Augusta's hand for a moment before she finally held out one hand. "Fine. I'll try the stupid thing on," she muttered.

By the time the purchases were set to ring up Harleen could only stare, wide eyed, at what looked to her like a veritable mountain of clothing as Madam Malkin magically set everything to fold and pack itself away into bags.

"This is entirely too much!" she protested.

"It is not," Augusta insisted. "In fact it isn't nearly as much as I would like to have purchased, but it will have to do for now."

"Augusta! I could wear a different outfit after classes every day for the rest of the school year and never wear the same thing twice!"

"A Lady of a House has standards that will be expected of her," Augusta explained. "You will need to learn how to carry yourself, how to dress, how to behave in public if you ever want society to take you seriously."

"I'm not a Lady," Harleen tried, only to be cut off.

"I believe I was told, and saw, otherwise. Your physical changes very much make you the Lady of your House now."

"I might be a girl, but I seriously doubt I'm _ever_ going to be a Lady," came Harleen's quick response. "I won't be fitting into any social norm that you could possibly think of, and I'm not going to try to convince people that I'm anything but who I am. If they can't deal with that then that's their problem, not mine."

Augusta turned from the counter and eyed Harleen. "No, I don't suppose you will," she murmured quietly. "You should still learn the expected rules, however, so that _when_ you break them it is by choice, rather than through ignorance."

"Harleen, just give up," Neville spoke up from where he was still sitting in the chairs near the door, an Herbology textbook in his hands. "When Gran gets an idea in her head there's no shaking her. She's going to buy what she feels you need and you're not going to get around it. This is House Duty."

Harleen turned to Hermione who immediately took a step back, both hands held out in front of her. "Oh no," she said, her lips quirking up into a small grin. "I'm actually with Madam Longbottom on this. We got thrown into this society without knowing how things work. From what I've been able to glean during the last day of conversations, women don't have an easy time in the wizarding world. You're going to need every advantage you can get, and I'll be right there learning it all with you, if that's okay?"

Hermione looked over to see Madam Longbottom nod acceptance, "I think there's a lot we need to learn too about how this world we're a part of functions."

Outnumbered and with no plan of attack, Harleen admitted defeat with a pained sounding groan. "Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest in what she knew was a petulant manner, she just couldn't quite bring herself to care.

"Very good," Augusta said in a satisfied tone. "I'm glad you've decided to stop fighting me on this. Really, all of this is for your benefit. It might not seem like it to you now, but eventually you'll understand."

Purchases bagged, paid for, and shrunk down, Harleen tucked them into her pocket, scowling for a moment before she turned her attention back to Madam Longbottom who was standing near the door. "Next," she said, "all the incidentals a young lady needs."

Harleen groaned again as Hermione let out a quiet giggle and came over to loop their arms together, leading the raven haired teen from the shop with Neville in tow.

"Come on, Harleen," she laughed. "It won't be that bad."

#####

"I am never going shopping again," Harleen groaned some hours later as she sat, slumped over a table at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, her cheek pressed against the table's smooth surface.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at her best friend's plight while Neville gently patted the girl's shoulder. She had to admit, it was nice to see more of her old friend in this new body and behavior that had taken over. Harry had never been much for shopping, and despite changing back into her proper body, it didn't appear that Harleen was any more enamoured with the activity than she'd been before.

"It is only the necessities," Augusta commented in a prim tone from her seat at the table.

"All of this won't even fit in my trunk," Harleen pointed out. "Even if I took out all my school things and my broom I doubt even half of what you bought would fit."

"We'll be stopping to get you a lady's trunk, of course, and even if we weren't, space expansion charms, or shrinking charms, can work wonders."

Harleen lifted her head, blinking a few times as she looked at the older witch. "A what?"

"A lady's trunk," Hermione cut in. "There are different styles, but for students it's a three compartment trunk with one section for school supplies, one as a wardrobe, and the third for incidentals and accessories. Even I have a lady's trunk."

Harleen's focus shifted, her bright green eyes turning toward Hermione who did her level best to keep a calm expression on her face. _Why does she have to be so damned pretty?_ Hermione silently lamented, taking in her friends new appearance once again.

Her hair had been trimmed, not chopped short as Harleen had first requested, and it now fell in layered waves down her back, framing her face beautifully, yet still managing to somehow maintain the trademark messiness that was such an integral part of Harleen Potter. Her old, clunky glasses had been replaced with a simple, elegant pair that kept the round style lenses but with a slim, silver colored frame. While her old pair had seemed to try to hide her eyes, this new set only served to enhance the shape and dramatic color that so many had commented on in the past.

Since they weren't in class, Augusta had insisted that she start wearing some of her new clothes and Harleen was dressed in a red, form fitting, v-neck top and a black pair of slacks that hugged her hips beneath a set of casual robes in a slate grey. In the end, Hermione decided the girl she'd already thought was gorgeous had been propelled into 'stunning' and keeping her composure was just getting more difficult as the day wore on.

_There's no safe place to look at this girl!_ she groused internally. _Look at her face and the eyes get me. Any lower and that top is distracting… I'm just glad the robes hide how great her bum looks in those slacks..._

Seriously, if Hermione hadn't developed deep feelings for the girl sitting across from her she'd be feeling threatened by just how good she looked.

Hermione blinked suddenly, realizing that Harleen was giving her an odd look and she quickly glanced to Neville and his grandmother to find them both looking expectantly at her as well.

She flushed, turning her attention back to Harleen. "I'm sorry, m-my mind wandered away with me. Did you say something?"

"I was just a little surprised that you had one of these lady's trunks," Harleen said, giving Hermione a considering look. "You've never struck me as the type to worry about the incidentals."

"Well, I _am_ a girl," Hermione shot back, somewhat waspishly, to which Harleen nodded.

"Believe me, I'm well aware you're a girl, Hermione. You're just not like Lavender and Parvati. They're obsessed with the incidentals. Makeup and accessories and all that. You've never been like that." Harleen shrugged a little self consciously. "I've always liked that about you."

Flushing slightly, Hermione ducked her head a bit. "Well… to be honest I used the third compartment to hold more of my books. The primary compartment didn't have enough room for all my school supplies and the Wardrobe compartment is designed for clothes specifically."

Harleen and Neville both laughed at that admission, though Hermione was happy to note there was nothing mean in their laughter. "That sounds like the Hermione we've come to know and love," Harleen said, grinning broadly at her, bright green eyes sparkling behind her new glasses and Hermione could feel her cheeks getting even warmer.

"Well, we're just about done with this trip," Augusta told them. "You said you had a couple of stops that you wanted to make?" She turned her attention to Harleen who nodded.

"Yes, I was hoping to swing by Flourish and Blotts and I wanted to hit one other shop…"

Hermione's interest was piqued when her friend trailed off, a pensive expression on her face.

"Augusta?" she asked.

"What is it, dear?"

"Would it be any stain against your House if I wanted to offer a gift, as my thanks for everything you've done and everything you'll be doing in the future? I don't want to insult you or your House, but… honestly I can't remember anyone ever taking such an interest in making sure I had the things that I actually need. Aside from the day Hagrid first brought me here to get my school supplies. But even that was just school things, and he bought me my owl, Hedwig.

"I just… I want to do something to show how much I appreciate what House Longbottom is doing for me. You could consider it a gift from House Potter, if that helps at all?"

Harleen had a hopeful, pleading expression on her face as she finished speaking and Madam Longbottom considered her question carefully for several moments before giving a short, perfunctory nod.

"I do believe that would be acceptable. However we cannot accept a mere bauble or something of casual interest. A gift, as you've stated you wish it to be, should be something that would assist, or enrich, the House in some manner. Do you believe you'll find such an item here?"

Grinning broadly, Harleen jumped to her feet, her earlier exhaustion seemingly forgotten in a wash of sudden exuberance.

"Absolutely, Madam Longbottom. I know just the thing." Reaching out she grabbed Neville's hand and yanked the surprised boy to his feet. "Come on, Nev," she burst out, "I know exactly what you need and it will absolutely help House Longbottom."

With that she scurried off, practically dragging a still shocked Neville Longbottom behind her.

"Harleen! Wait for us," Hermione called.

Madam Longbottom quickly paid for the lunch they'd eaten and the two of them hurried after Harleen and Neville.

"Over there," Hermione called, pointing to where she could see Neville's back as he entered Ollivander's shop.

The two witches quickly made their way into the shop to find Neville standing in the center of the open space in front of the counter, a bemused expression on his face, while Harleen stood with her back to the counter itself, her arms crossed over her breasts and a stubborn set to her own expression that had Hermione wanting to groan in dismay. That stubborn set to her jaw, the steely glint in her eyes… she'd last seen that expression when the face that wore it was still male, but there was no mistaking it.

It was the same look Harry had worn before walking through a wall of flames to go after the Sorcerer's Stone, or before facing down an escaped criminal and then a hundred Dementors. She imagined it was the same expression her best friend had worn before facing Slytherin's basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

_Crap,_ she thought. _This could get ugly. Whatever she's planning could easily blow up in her face and I don't know how to help!_

"Why are we here, Harleen?" Augusta asked warily.

"We're here to correct something that should have been done years ago," Harleen informed them in a clipped tone that had Hermione wincing.

_Coming off as confrontational or combative is probably not the best way to start whatever this is, Harleen,_ she thought, shooting a cautious glance in the direction of the Longbottom Matriarch.

"Explain."

It was not a request, but a demand.

Harleen nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. "First, I'd like to apologize if I come across as… well, overly blunt. Ask Hermione, I don't have her tact or way with words. So I'm just going to say what I need to say and beg a little forgiveness in advance."

She took a deep breath and lowered her hands to her sides, staring unflinchingly at her new guardian.

"Yesterday, was I James Potter?"

Augusta frowned. "No, of course not."

"Then today, am I Lily Potter?"

"No," Augusta said exasperated. "What does this have to do with-"

"If I am not either of my parents, then why do you seem to be treating Neville as if he is, or should be, Frank?"

There was a hiss of a sharply drawn breath and Hermione blinked, utterly bewildered to see both Longbottom's pale dramatically.

"You don't know what you're-"

"I think we've already established that I know a lot more than people think I do, haven't we?" Harleen said, cutting off Augusta's angry statement before she could really get started. "I never met your son, Madam Longbottom, but from what I've heard he was a good man. The kind of man one could look up to, to see as a role model. He sounds like a man I could respect and I understand that is the kind of man you want Neville to be.

"But Neville is _not_ his father. He never will be, but he also doesn't _have_ to be in order to still be a good man worthy of respect. I already respect Neville for the man he is and the man I know he'll become. He doesn't _need_ to use his father's old wand in order to honor Frank. In fact, by not getting Neville a wand that is matched to him, I would go so far as to say that you are dishonoring Frank by not giving his son the proper tools that he needs to grow as a wizard."

While she spoke, Augusta slowly sank into the spindly little chair that was sitting against the wall across from the counter, her face a contrast of emotions that Hermione couldn't quite place as they flickered over the older witch's face far too fast for her to properly identify one before it changed into something else.

"Neville is his father's son," Augusta argued, "He should be proud to use his wand."

"That's not the point," Harleen shot back. "If the wand isn't suited to Neville then it doesn't matter how proud he is, he's being held back by a wand that is constantly fighting against him. Failing to manage spells that should be simple for him is damaging his confidence. I _know_ that Neville has a lot of power at his fingertips, but he can't realize that power using his father's wand."

"As much as I'd like to believe that, Neville has never shown much power."

"Gran's right, Harry," Neville interjected shamefully, "I've never been very strong."

"That's a load of thestral crap, Nev," Harleen snapped. "You're a very powerful wizard, and you'd know that if you'd been given the proper tools to begin with."

"What makes you so sure of all this?"

Harleen glared at Augusta, lifted her right hand, and silently tapped her temple with her index finger, her meaning immediately clear to Hermione.

Harleen _knew_ things, things that she couldn't possibly know, and her absolute belief in this matter told the bushy haired witch that this was another one of those things.

"Madam Longbottom?" she asked, cutting into the conversation for the first time, "what could it hurt to see if there's a wand that will match Neville? If there isn't then all we've done is waste a bit of time. But if there is…" She trailed off with a helpless shrug as all three of them turned in her direction.

"I mean… I was just thinking of my first time here, and Mister Ollivander told me that it was the wand that chooses the witch or wizard. If Neville's wand didn't choose him, wouldn't it stand to reason that he'd get better results from a wand that did?"

"I could not have put it better myself, Miss Granger."

All four of them jumped, Hermione even letting out a startled squeak, to her dismay, as a new voice suddenly intruded on them.

"You do that on purpose, don't you?" Harleen accused the old wand maker as he stepped out of the shadows near the front door where he'd apparently been standing the entire time.

Ollivander's lips twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. "I am quite sure that I have no idea what you are talking about Miss…." He paused, peering at Harleen for a moment before his almost luminous, silver eyes widened in apparent surprise. "... Miss _Potter_," he breathed. "Well… how curious… how very curious indeed."

Hermione was pretty sure that she heard Harleen mutter '_sure_ you don't,' under her breath and had to stifle a giggle.

"Uh… yeah, about the whole 'Miss Potter' thing-"

"Do not worry, Miss Potter. How this came to be, and why, are no concern of mine, or anyone else's. I won't be mentioning it to anyone, as it is none of my business. How can I help you today? Is your wand giving you trouble?"

"No, no trouble, but I'm sure you heard that Neville here isn't using a wand that was properly matched for him and I'd like to see about correcting that."

The old wand maker nodded, his attention shifting toward Neville as he moved a step closer to the young wizard. "As Miss Potter so eloquently stated earlier, a wand that is not matched to the witch or wizard will actively fight against that person. Your father matched an oak wand, twelve and a half inches, with a dragon heartstring core. I remember him being a brash, forceful presence, even as a child.

"You, Young Master Longbottom, are entirely ill fitted to such a wand. You are more subtle, more introspective but, I think, no less the brave Gryffindor that your father was."

By the time that Ollivander finished speaking he had moved around them and behind the counter, pulling long boxes from the shelves as he went as Neville flushed under the compliment. Neville turned, giving a pleading look to his grandmother, who was struggling to find her voice.

Personally, Hermione didn't think that the woman was often stunned into silence as she had been today. She didn't seem the type. _More like she's used to being the one that stuns others into silence,_ she thought, barely holding back an amused snort.

Eventually, Augusta let out a resigned sounding sigh and nodded her head. "Go ahead and see if there is a wand for you."

Neville beamed at her and rushed over to hug his grandmother before he quickly turned back to Mister Ollivander. Within twenty minutes there was a sizeable pile of rejected wands on the counter and Ollivander was looking more and more excited with each rejection. Hermione noticed that, while the old wizard may have been enjoying the challenge of matching Neville with an appropriate wand, Neville appeared more and more dejected with each failure.

"Mister Ollivander?" Harleen spoke up after the thirtieth failure. "Would you be open to a suggestion?"

Ollivander paused in the act of reaching for another box and slowly turned his head toward the slip of a girl, blinking his luminous eyes several times in apparent confusion. His hand pulled back from the dusty box and his body turned until it matched up with his head, facing Harleen directly.

_Okay, that was creepy,_ Hermione thought, firmly suppressing a shudder.

"I don't believe anyone has ever attempted to offer a suggestion in my own shop before," the old wizard commented in a thoughtful tone. He quickly waved away Harleen's stammered apologies. "Not to worry, I honestly find the idea intriguing. What would you suggest for Master Longbottom?"

"Cherry wood for the body of the wand," Harleen stated firmly, no trace of hesitation apparent in her manner or her tone and the old man blinked again, eyeing her curiously.

"I have a little more than a dozen cherry wood wands. Have you a suggestion for the core?"

"Unicorn hair," came the swift response.

"Hmmmm… I _do_ have a cherry wand with a unicorn hair core. I made it nearly a decade ago." He turned his attention to Neville. "Are you willing to give it a try, Master Longbottom?"

Neville eyed Harleen for several seconds and Hermione imagined that she could almost see the wheels turning in the boy's head. "Harleen has never steered me wrong," he finally said, shifting his own attention back to Ollivander, "I don't see any reason why she'd start now."

"Very good," Ollivander said, reaching up for yet another long, dusty box from a high shelf behind the counter. "This is actually the _only_ cherry wand that I have left that contains a unicorn hair as its core," he said as he opened the box to remove the beautifully polished wand from within its velvet lined interior, presenting the handle toward Neville.

Somewhat nervously, despite his confident statement of support for Harleen's suggestion, Neville reached out and grasped the wand carefully and, after a moment's hesitation, he gave it a graceful wave through the air. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect from the wand, her only experience being when she was first introduced to her own wand and the stream of iridescent bubbles that had filled the air in the shop when she first gave it a wave.

As Neville waved the wand a warm, soothing breeze swept through the shop, bringing with it the scents of fresh earth, wild flowers, and it reminded Hermione strongly of all things green and teeming with life. In a matter of seconds the entire counter and half way up each wall was suddenly covered in clinging vines that burst into a display of colorful blooms, filling the air with their sweet scent.

"Wow."

Neville's quiet exclamation was awed, wide eyes fixed on the gleaming wand in his hand as Harleen nodded her head in agreement, her eyes taking in the colorful display around them.

"Master Longbottom's magic is far more matured at his age than it was three years ago," Ollivander said, his own wand flicking back and forth as he cleaned up after Neville. "That would be why the effect of his bonding to his wand was so much more than the usual shower of sparks or other simple effects one sees when an eleven-year-old bonds with their first wand."

"Way to go, Neville!" Harleen congratulated the still awestruck boy, beaming at him and clapping him on the shoulder with one hand. "How's it feel to have your own wand, mate?"

"Harleen… it isn't proper for a young lady to speak that way."

Harleen blinked and turned to look at a shaky Madam Longbottom from where she was rising from the chair against the wall.

"What?"

Neville chuckled for a moment, his eyes still a little wide and fixed on the wand in his hand. "You're the ward of House Longbottom," he reminded her, "and the Heiress of House Potter. At your level of social status there are plenty of rules of etiquette that you're going to have to learn. Proper speech and comportment falls into that and a Lady of a House would _never_ call an unattached male not related to her by blood, 'mate'."

By the expression on her face, Hermione could tell that Harleen was likely cursing up a storm in her head and she bit back another giggle at the sight.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Harleen muttered.

"Don't worry," Neville told her, finally tearing his eyes away from his new wand to reach out and pat Harleen's shoulder consolingly. "I've had lessons on this stuff for years and while my instruction has differences, being male, I'll help as much as I can."

Harleen sighed but turned more fully to face Augusta, squaring her shoulders and adopting a posture Hermione had never seen before. Back straight, her hands clasped almost demurely in front of her with her chin raised level with the floor, eyes fixed on the Longbottom Matriarch.

"Does House Longbottom accept this gift from House Potter?" she asked in a clear, even tone. "It is a gift meant to strengthen and enrich the House of Longbottom and is offered out of friendship and gratitude."

Augusta's expression was cloudy as she fought with a rush of different emotions but she nodded her head. "The gift is more than acceptable," she said, "both because it will help the Scion of House Longbottom to reach his potential and because you helped to open a foolish old woman's eyes to the damage she was doing, clinging to the past."

Harleen's expression was a small, sad, understanding smile gently curving her lips. "Take your son's wand, Madam Longbottom, and give it a place of honor to display it in your home," she said softly. "Neville is going to be a credit to your House entirely on his own merit, I promise you."

Harleen turned back to Ollivander as Neville quickly crossed over to his Gran to begin speaking to her in a low tone that Hermione couldn't make out. "Thank you, Mister Ollivander. We'll take the wand, one wand care kit, and three of your quick release wrist hosters."

"I thought you needed to go to the bank, Harleen," Hermione muttered to her as the old wizard went about collecting the requested items.

"If I was buying an entire wardrobe and everything else, yeah. But for this and a stop at Flourish and Blotts, I have enough on me."

Ollivander had the purchases ready in just a few moments and Harleen handed over the requested Galleons. Hermione watched as Harleen pushed up her right sleeve and strapped one of the black, dragon hide holsters to her forearm before she lowered her sleeve and slid her wand, handle first into the holster.

Holding her hand up, she flicked her wrist and, with a loud click, her wand shot out of her sleeve and a startled yelp escaped her as she barely managed to catch it before it would have gone flying out of her hand. She cursed under her breath and adjusted her grip on the wand before she flicked her wrist a second time, sending her wand shooting back up her sleeve. She scowled slightly, but gave an approving nod.

"I must say I am impressed," Ollivander said. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone use one of those holsters so well on their first try."

Harleen flushed slightly and muttered something about 'Seeker reflexes' under her breath. "These have the usual anti-summoning charms and the like, right?"

"They do, and they can be worn in muggle areas without drawing attention as well, even with short sleeves."

"Excellent. Thank you very much, Mister Ollivander."

Hermione suddenly found her upper arm being grabbed as Harleen nearly dragged her across the room to where Neville and his Gran were standing, apparently finished with their discussion. Reaching the two, Harleen immediately pressed one of the two remaining holsters into Neville's hands and the other into Hermione's.

"I want you two to wear these and use them. They take some practice and getting used to, usually, so practice with them tonight and keep practicing until you're comfortable with the draw."

"Why do we need Auror grade holsters, Harleen?" Neville asked, studying the item in his hands.

"Someone put my name in that goblet, and I'm pretty sure they didn't do it just to try to give me a chance to win a thousand galleons," Harleen explained, already in the process of securing Hermione's new holster to her arm. "I have enemies, and I want my friends to have every advantage that I can give you if those enemies decide to come after you in order to get to me."

Hermione and Neville both accepted their gifts without complaint after that explanation and it wasn't until they were leaving the shop, some ten minutes later, that she realized that Harleen apparently wasn't including Ron amongst her list of friends.

Honestly, she wasn't at all certain how to feel about that.

#####

That evening, Harleen sat in her bed in the Hospital Wing, idly playing with her new wand holster as she thought long and hard over her situation. The day had gone well, she felt. Gaining House Protection from Neville's Gran helped hogtie Dumbledore. With Augusta now her magical guardian, the old man couldn't make decisions regarding her welfare anymore. As her legal guardian Harleen would be living at Longbottom Hall when she wasn't in school, so she would never have to go back to the Dursleys' house ever again.

Those two things, by themselves, would have made this a red letter day for Harleen Potter, but then came the shopping trip that followed. As embarrassed as she'd been with underwear shopping, and as annoying as it had been to argue with Madam Longbottom over skirts and dresses… Harleen _had_ noticed the way Hermione had looked at her when she'd tried on a few of the outfits that had been selected.

_She wanted me,_ Harleen thought, a flush staining her cheeks even as a giddy, elated feeling grew in her chest. She couldn't remember Hermione ever once looking at the male version of her the way the girl had looked at her that day.

The way Hermione's gaze had lingered on her body had, more than anything Augusta had said, been what convinced her to accept a few of the more revealing outfits that had been suggested. If that inspired looks from some of the male population… well, she could deal with that as long as Hermione kept looking at her that way.

She was suddenly jerked out of her thoughts when she fumbled her wand, nearly missing it as it came flying out of her sleeve and into her hand, forcing her to adjust her grip on the handle before she could send it shooting back up the sleeve of her striped hospital pajama top and into the holster hidden there.

"Stop getting distracted," she muttered to herself, frowning at the spot where the holster sat on her forearm beneath her sleeve while she refocused her thoughts.

So far since coming back she'd managed to remove herself from most of Dumbledore's control. She'd obviously made some headway on her situation with Hermione, and by getting Neville his wand nearly two years earlier than before, she managed to ensure that he would grow into a stronger, more confident wizard much sooner.

Unfortunately she didn't yet know if her efforts on Halloween had made any difference. Did people believe that she entered herself into the tournament? Would she be able to salvage a potential friendship with Cedric and some of the other members of Hufflepuff? Would Ron abandon her like he did last time through? Did she care if he did or not? What about Slytherin and Ravenclaw? She knew she needed to cultivate new alliances and friendships, but who should she approach?

She fell back in her bed with a quiet huff of expelled air, staring up at the familiar ceiling above her.

_Well,_ she thought, _overall I guess things haven't been going badly. Some progress has been made at least. But I need to remember, I'm not going to solve all of this in the first week. Gonna need to learn to have some patience._

There was a great deal that needed to be done. She knew that, and the tasks ahead of her were daunting in the extreme, to say the least, when taken as a whole. Aside from training herself and gathering allies, things she could do entirely on her own, she knew that she would need help in other areas if she was to succeed at her destiny. It was clear to her that getting Hermione on board and up to speed, as much as possible, needed to be her next, most important, goal.

_Good thing I snuck those books into her pocket,_ she thought. After all, having her best friend and the Brightest Witch of her Age helping her could _never_ be a bad thing.

#####

"What've you got there?"

Hermione looked up from the two books she'd just found shrunken down in her pocket to find Neville lowering himself into the armchair across from her. She had quickly claimed the sofa near the fireplace in their Common Room right after dinner and had been working on her assignments since until a search through her pockets for something she could no longer remember had brought her attention to the books she now held.

"I'm not entirely certain," she admitted with a frown and set the books down on the low table in front of her as she drew her wand from an inside pocket of her robes.

She made a mental note to practice with the holster Harleen had given her so that she could start using it properly. The first time she'd tried it out, her wand had gone shooting out of her sleeve to land on the floor of the Common Room several feet away from her, to her complete embarrassment.

With a wave of her wand and a quiet 'finite' the two books grew back to their full size and her head snapped up as Neville let out a surprised whistle to find him staring, wide eyed, at the books.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

She looked back down at the now full sized books, even more curious about them after his reaction. They weren't exceptionally thick books, each with a plain, unadorned cover save for the golden lettering that made up their titles, '_The Occluded Mind'_ and '_Hidden Strength of the Mental Arts'_.

"These books… this is a gray area, legally speaking."

"How so?" _And how did they end up in my pocket, for that matter?_

Neville frowned, his brow creasing deeply as he stared at the books.

"They deal specifically with a branch of mind magics called Occlumency. That's the art of protecting your mind against mental intrusion from Legilimency-"

"Wait… _mind reading_?" Hermione cut him off, her tone reflecting the horror she felt.

Neville shook his head. "Not exactly. Legilimency allows someone to view another person's memories, but not reading their thoughts as such. Occlumency is the defense against that. It also allows for a more organized mind."

She considered that carefully for a moment, her gaze returning to the innocuous looking tomes on the table "What makes it a legal grey area?" she finally asked.

"Well… according to the Ministry, the Mental or Mind Arts are dangerous and should only be used by trained professionals, so they have made _teaching_ Legilimency or Occlumency illegal, punishable by a five year stint in Azkaban."

She noticed the emphasis he placed and let out an annoyed huff. "Teaching, but not learning?"

"Exactly. A lot of pureblood families have taught Occlumency to their children from a young age in order to protect family secrets and such and they rallied together to make certain that no law expressly forbade learning either discipline. It's fairly widely believed amongst most of those families, light and dark, that the Ministry's only reason for trying to outlaw Occlumency specifically is because they don't like the idea of citizens being able to keep secrets from them."

_And Harleen has a lot of secrets that she promised to explain to me,_ Hermione thought, suddenly sure that she knew where the books had come from. _She must want me to learn to protect my mind. But is she going to talk to me before or after I've learned it? How long does it take to learn, anyway?_

She quickly shrank the two books and stuffed them back into her pocket before standing and gathering together the rest of her work that had been spread out across the table, efficiently packing everything away into her bag and slinging it over one shoulder. "Thank you, Neville," she said, offering him a small smile. "I'm going to head up to bed. Goodnight."

Barely waiting for a reply she started toward the stairs that would lead her up to her dorm room, intent on investigating the books currently burning a hole in her pocket when a voice stopped her just as her foot hit the bottom step.

"Don't suppose the cheat told _you_ how he entered his name, did he? Bloody git."

She blinked several times in surprise and slowly turned to face an irate seeming redhead.

"What?" she asked, not entirely certain that she'd heard correctly.

"Harry," Ron grumbled. "The git never even told me that he was going to put his name in the goblet."

Hermione frowned, not immediately certain what to be most annoyed about, the fact that Ron was accusing Harleen of cheating, or that he appeared to be ignoring that his supposed 'best friend' was a girl. "Har-"

"Don't even try to stick up for him," he cut her off angrily. "After everything we've been through, you'd think that he'd have told _us _at least."

"Ron! She already-"

He cut her off again, turning away from her in a huff. "Figures that _you _wouldn't say anything," he practically snarled as he stomped away toward the boy's stairs. "Thick as thieves like always, you two, and just leave me out of things. Just like last year."

Before she could even attempt to form a response he moved out of sight, disappearing toward the dorms and she had to resist the urge to stomp her foot out of pure frustration. Without Ron available for her to vent said frustration at she took a moment to debate on if she should chase after him or not before finally continuing on her way to her own dorm. She had more important things to worry about than Ron Weasley, after all.

In the dorm, she was pleased to find that her roommates were all out. While Fay Dunbar wouldn't have bothered her, Lavender and Parvati would have been relentless in hounding her with questions that she didn't want to answer. She placed the shrunken books on her bed and tucked her bag underneath her nightstand before quickly going about her evening rituals. She changed into her sleepwear, brushed her teeth, and fought her hair into some semblance of control, tying it back into a low ponytail before she climbed into her bed and closed her curtains.

A few quick spells ensured that she wouldn't be bothered by anyone and she finally turned her attention to the books.

After returning them to their normal size she flipped them both open and couldn't help a small smile when she found a folded scrap of parchment tucked inside one of them, just as she'd expected. Snatching it up, she unfolded it and started to read.

_Hermione-_

_I don't have a lot of time here so I'll be brief. I promised you answers, and you'll get them, but right now your mind is unprotected. Learning Occlumency needs to be a priority but I won't make you wait until you've learned it for your answers. Just please, start working on it as soon as you can._

_In the meantime avoid eye contact with most people until you can guard your thoughts, _especially_ Dumbledore and Snape. I know you have a deep seated trust in authority figures but please don't let that blind you to the fact that they're human with all the flaws and problems as any other human. They make mistakes, they can be wrong, and they can be unfair and biased. _

_We'll talk as soon as we can._

_Love,_

_Harleen._

The short letter was lowered into her lap as Hermione turned the words over in her mind. She wanted to argue with some of what Harleen had said, but if she was being honest with herself, she couldn't. She knew that she _did_ place those in positions of authority on a bit of a pedestal. She knew she was a stickler for following the rules and staying out of trouble, two things that went right out the window when a certain Potter was involved.

After hearing about what Dumbledore had done to her best friend however… she didn't think her faith in authority had ever been so thoroughly shaken. She could, and did, still respect the old wizard for his power and his brilliant mind, but she would never again be able to trust him as she once had. Some small part of her was saddened to realize that, even while it served to strengthen her resolve to be there to support Harleen.

She set aside the letter and picked up the first book, _'The Occluded Mind_' and began to read. It would be many hours before she managed to sleep and when she did, her dreams would be filled with visions of long, raven colored hair and vivid green eyes.


	7. The Next Great Adventure

**Author's notes: Here we go again. I'm really so far beyond thrilled with the reception this story has received I can't even begin to properly explain it. You guys are awesome and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. **

**With this chapter I only have one more that's complete. Chapter 09 is unfinished but I am working on it along with Soul Scars and an expanded intro chapter for Slytherin Included. If I post SI it'll be as a new story since chapter one is already much changed from the little one shot that I published previously.**

**Also with this chapter things lean more toward the M rating in the beginning and this wont be the only one. Later scenes will be worse than this chapter, too. So if M rated femslash bothers anyone you have been warned. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Here's Chapter 07 of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

The Next Great Adventure

by,

Rtnwriter

The Room of Requirement was a wonderful tool, providing everything she needed to prepare. A space to work out in, a track to run on, and a pool to cool off in and work on her swimming. The pool, in particular, was looking more and more enticing as time went on and when Harleen finally finished the third mile of her run she hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting harshly as her breath burned in her throat and lungs.

After regaining her breath she hurried to a small changing room, slipping into her swimsuit and rinsing off the worst of the sweat before she plunged into the cool water, counting in her head as she began swimming laps. The second task was looming ever closer and she did not want to be caught as unprepared as she'd been last time.

With her head underwater, she felt the splash more than she heard it and came to a stop, letting her feet drop to the bottom of the pool in the shallow end as she looked around for the source of the disturbance. A pair of arms suddenly circled her waist from behind, a small splash reaching her ears as a warm body pressed against her, breasts flush against her back, breath hot against her ear.

Harleen stiffened entirely, her body going rigid until the arms loosened, hands falling to her waist as they gently urged her to turn around. Cinnamon colored irises greeted her, the pupils dilated until only a thin, bright ring of color surrounded those darkened pools. She moved easily, letting Hermione push her back until she felt the wall of the pool against her back, her slight frame bracketed between the side of the pool and the warm, smooth body of her best friend.

The hands on her waist tightened and Harleen let out a startled yelp as she found herself lifted up and out of the pool so that her bum landed on the edge, legs trailing into the water. Before she could even think to question what the other girl was doing those hands she'd felt moved from her waist, sliding down her bare thighs to her knees until they pushed, pressing against her unresisting legs until she was spread open.

Hermione moved closer in the water, grinning up at her until the older girl leaned forward, her lips suddenly coming into contact with her right leg, just above her knee. Harleen's mouth dropped open, a quiet breath escaping her as those soft lips slowly moved higher, switching back and forth from one leg to the other, each gentle kiss moving further toward the center of her. She squirmed in place, senses overwhelmed by the sudden assault on her body.

Hermione was an inch away, if that. Lips and tongue now trailing across her skin as Harleen's hands moved from where they'd been braced on the ground behind her to tangle her fingers in the soaked mane of Hermione's tangled curls, quietly gasping, "oh my-"

"- God!"

Harleen sat up sharply, her breath coming fast, heart pounding in her chest, her hair clinging to the sweat beaded skin of her forehead and neck. Her eyes flitted rapidly around the dimly lit confines of the Hospital Wing, mind whirling in an attempt to make sense of what she was seeing.

Finally, after several minutes passed her by, she slumped back onto the bed, breath and heart rate calmed to stare up at the blurred ceiling above her.

"Just a dream," she muttered. "Holy fuck… it was just a dream."

_What the hell was _that?

#####

"What are you going to do today? You are going to _help_ your best friend. You are _not_ going to stare at, or ogle, her. You _will_ be supportive. You will do your best not to pay any attention to her legs in the uniform skirt."

Absently, as she made her way through the castle toward the Hospital Wing, Hermione lifted one hand to brush the tips of her fingers across her lips. Images from her dreams flitted across her mind and, for a moment, she imagined she could still feel smooth, silken skin under her hands. She thought she could still hear breathless gasps and whimpers. She could almost see the tiny patch of cloth covering the prize she'd sought with her lips and tongue…

She shook her head violently a moment later.

_No!_ she snapped at herself. _Harleen has enough to deal with. She doesn't need you acting like a silly, lovesick girl!_

Somewhere at the back of her mind a traitorous voice whispered, _but you _are_ a lovesick girl, and she is literally the girl of your dreams._

"And the last thing Harleen needs to be dealing with right now is my issues on top of everything else she already has on her plate," she muttered under her breath as the doors to the Hospital Wing came into view ahead of her, "so shut up about it already."

No voice whispered back to her and she took a deep breath, plastered a smile on her face, and pushed open the doors.

Harleen was sitting up on the edge of her bed, already dressed for class and engaged in conversation with Madam Pomfrey. Both of them looked up as she entered the Wing, her friend's cheeks flushing brightly after spotting her.

"Good morning," she greeted them as she approached.

Madam Pomfrey greeted her clearly, a cheerful tone in her voice while Harleen muttered something inaudibly, her eyes directed at the floor in front of her new, black mary janes.

"Are you feeling alright, dear?" Madam Pomfrey asked, studying Harleen's flushed face carefully.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey, I swear. Can I go?" the girl almost pleaded, looking anywhere _but_ at Hermione, who was left wondering just what could have come over her friend.

Madam Pomfrey eyed her warily for a moment before letting out a resigned sounding sigh, straightening up to her full height with her hands clasped in front of her. "Very well then," she said. "Remember what we talked about and I'll see you after lunch?"

Harleen nodded as she nearly shot to her feet, looking thrilled to be leaving the Hospital Wing. "Yes, Ma'am," she said. "We only have History of Magic this morning and no more classes for the rest of the day. Light day today."

"Very well. Off you go, then." The mediwitch made a shooing motion toward them with both hands and the two girls grinned, thanking the older witch as they turned and headed for the door.

"How _are_ you feeling, Harleen?" Hermione asked a minute later as they began their walk toward the Great Hall.

Harleen blew out an irritated breath, a frown marring her features. "I'm fine!" she very nearly snapped, at which Hermione flinched slightly. Harleen sighed and reached for the other girl's hand, giving it an apologetic squeeze. "I'm sorry," she muttered contritely. "It's just… everyone keeps asking me how I'm feeling. It's driving me spare! Yes, changing hurt, but yesterday I actually felt pretty good even if I was exhausted by dinner time. Today I feel great, not sore or tired at all. So please… could you stop asking me how I'm feeling? I'm begging here."

Squeezing back after a moment, Hermione allowed herself a small smile. "I can understand how that would be bothersome," she said. "But honestly, I meant how are you feeling about what's coming? Seeing the rest of the school and dealing with our classmates and such for the first time since you changed?"

Harleen's cheeks flushed red again and she let out a small, 'oh'.

"Erm… sorry for snapping at you," she mumbled and Hermione again squeezed the hand she was still holding.

"It's okay. Like I said, I can imagine how frustrating that has to be. I'll try not to ask how you're feeling too much but you know me, I don't think I'll be able to avoid it forever."

Reluctantly, it seemed, Harleen let go of her hand, focusing on where they were going as her arm fell back to her side. "I'm not looking forward to this in the slightest," she admitted. "I can only guess how some people are going to react… wait… does the school even know about what happened to me? Professor McGonagall said she'd let our friends know…"

Hermione frowned at that, remembering her interaction with their other best friend the night before. "I'm not actually sure," she said. "Ron spoke to me briefly last night and he kept referring to you as if you were still male. None of our other house mates approached me about it when I got back yesterday, so Professor McGonagall must have told someone _something_, otherwise I expect I would have been hounded with questions."

"Grrrreat…" Harleen sighed, "Well, only one thing for it then."

They fell silent again, continuing their walk through the corridors. Absently, Hermione noticed that they were walking closer together than they'd been when they first left the infirmary. She hadn't even noticed them drifting towards each other and the thought entered her mind that she should probably put a bit of space between them. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to do that.

"What were you blushing about?" Hermione abruptly asked, startling the witch beside her as Harleen turned her head to look at her with wide, bright green eyes.

"What?"

"When I came into the Hospital Wing, you were blushing. Is something wrong?"

Once again, the raven haired teen's cheeks filled with color and her head snapped away from Hermione, her eyes riveted on the floor in front of them as she continued to put one foot in front of the other.

"It was nothing," she muttered.

Hermione chewed anxiously on her lower lip, studying the girl beside her carefully. She didn't want to press. She didn't want to pry or push, even though that was fairly standard operating procedure with her. She was well aware that Harleen usually didn't respond well to being pushed, and she didn't want to do anything to upset her friend. At the same time, she _wanted_ to help.

"I… if you really don't want to talk about it, I won't push you," she finally said. "But if it'll help, I hope you know I'm always willing to listen."

Harleen fidgeted nervously for a minute, tugging lightly at the edge of her blouse. "I, uh... well.. I had a dream last night..." she finally said in such a quiet voice that Hermione almost missed it.

"W-was it another vision? Should we go see Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, gripping her friend's forearm tightly and bringing the other girl to a halt in the middle of the corridor.

Harleen's eyes widened and she shook her head. "No!" she blurted out. "No... it wasn't like that... it was just a dream. Not a vision, or-or like the dream I had the other night. It… it was _about_ someone though..."

Hermione blinked in confusion for a moment before understanding dawned. _She was dreaming about someone? I guess it might just be too much to hope that it was about me. _She quickly considered her options before coming to a decision._ Whatever I feel, she's my best friend and I swore to help her so… _

Before she could say anything Harleen spoke again, looking around furtively for a moment before leaning in closer to whisper, "is it normal to wake up… um... drenched... down there?"

Harleen's face was as red as Hermione had ever seen it and in no time she could feel her own cheeks warming considerably as the girl's meaning became clear to her.

_She had a wet dream!? _"Um... it can be..." Hermione trailed off, not exactly sure how to continue, or if she wanted to. She did her best to ignore the stab of pain in her chest at the thought of her friend dreaming about some nameless person. _What if it was about Neville?_ she thought, considering how friendly Harleen had been with the boy yesterday but then she quickly shoved that thought aside. _No, Harleen told him flat out that she wasn't remotely interested in him _that_ way._

Hermione resumed walking, letting go of Harleen's arm once the other girl fell into step with her. "Dreams," she said. "Normal dreams, at least, are frequently our unconscious mind trying to tell us something, though not always. Sometimes they're just random imaginings. Also, the uh… the… dampness you mentioned… that's the response a woman's body has to… to being aroused."

Harleen nodded but didn't say anything, a now uncomfortable silence descending over the two of them.

"So... who was this dream about?" Hermione finally dragged up the courage to ask, attempting to put a light hearted, teasing note into her voice.

Harleen's body stiffened. "W-why do you want to know?" she squeaked out.

"Well... you're Harry Potter. You're amazing, and you're _my_ best friend. Not just anyone is going to be good enough for you," she rationalized her question. _And I need to know who to quietly hate._

Harleen shook her head again, her lips pressed tightly together and Hermione poked her shoulder teasingly with one finger. "Come on," she attempted to cajole, finding herself slightly amused at her friend's behavior despite the unpleasant thoughts swirling through her head. "Tell me about this dream person. What was he like?"

Harleen's head whipped in her direction so fast that Hermione winced as the sound of several vertebrae popping reached her ears. "HE?" Harleen burst out incredulously. She gaped at Hermione for several moments before a ghastly pale pallor overcame her and she stopped walking again, physically gagging several times as if attempting to quell a sudden urge to vomit.

Once she had her gag reflex under control she started walking again, speeding past Hermione who had to rush to catch up.

"He?" the other girl muttered as they walked. "Gods no. No 'he'. Not gonna happen. No way in hell…" Harleen trailed off, muttering darkly under her breath and before Hermione could try to interject they'd reached the open doors to the Great Hall and stepped through.

"Ah, ladies, excellent timing!"

Both girls came to an abrupt halt, looking up with wide gazes toward the Head Table where Dumbledore was standing, in the midst of addressing the assembled students and visitors.

"I was just explaining to our resident students and guests about the transformation you experienced Monday evening," he said. "Please, sit and I will be finished in a moment."

The aged wizard's blue eyes twinkled merrily as he gestured toward the Gryffindor table with one hand and the two of them cautiously made their way over to the table, finding seats near the middle and across from Neville.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued once they were both seated, "Miss Potter had any and all magic on her stripped away by the Goblet of Fire when her name came out of it. She was born a girl, and had been made to appear to be male for her protection, thus when the goblet stripped away the magic placed on her she was returned to the body of her birth. I would ask you all not to pester her with questions and to give her her space. I'm sure none of us can imagine what she is dealing with and we wouldn't want to make things more difficult for her in the coming months, now would we?"

He smiled genially at the sea of faces before him though no response came and he eventually returned to his seat, the rumbling of conversation picking up as everyone returned to their breakfast. Well… those that weren't staring or craning their necks in an attempt to get a look at Harleen, at least.

Hermione frowned at all the eyes fixed on her friend, wishing, not for the first time, that there was something she could do to get them all to mind their own business.

"Let it go, Hermione," Harleen muttered beside her. "They always stare, and it's annoying as hell, but you can't stop people from staring or talking, and worrying about it will just drive you barmy."

"It's not right," she hissed back.

"No it's not, but there's nothing to be done about it but ignore them."

Hermione let out an annoyed huff but had to concede that Harleen was right, there was nothing they could do about the staring.

_At least the Headmaster's warning seems to have stopped them from hounding us with questions, _she thought, grateful for that much though she couldn't help but wonder just how long it would last.

As she served herself and started eating, she dimly noted Neville greeting Harleen and the two fell into a quiet conversation while they ate. Hermione's thoughts were far from the discussion taking place however.

_So, she had a wet dream about someone, but was horrified by the idea of that person being male,_ she mused silently. _Don't get ahead of yourself. She's been through a traumatic change and you don't know if she's changed mentally at all, or might still change as she adjusts._

_Keep telling yourself that and you'll miss your chance,_ her own voice responded again. _Harry was attracted to girls, you saw him making eyes at Chang and there's no reason to assume that Harleen isn't exactly the same. She's the same person, only the packaging has changed._

Hermione frowned at her mental argument. _I am _not_ going to take advantage of her right after such a dramatic change in her life. She needs time to settle in, get used to things. On top of all that there's this stupid tournament to worry abo-_

Next to her, Harleen reached into an inside pocket of her robes and retrieved a tiny wooden box. She set the box on the table in front of her empty plate and enlarged it with a tap of her wand. The strange action startled Hermione out of her thoughts, her focus narrowing in on her friend. Opening the lid revealed several rows of filled potion vials and a folded piece of parchment.

"Harry!" Hermione burst out, startling the girl and causing her to drop the piece of parchment she'd been in the process of unfolding. "You said you were better!"

"What?" Harleen asked, confused. "I was, I mean I am. What's with the panic?"

Hermione scowled. "Harleen Potter! 'Better' does not include a regimen of potions like that. What's wrong with you? Shouldn't Madam Pomfrey administer those? Why would she even let you leave the Hospital Wing?"

She was well on her way to building herself up into a full panic when a hand suddenly covered her mouth and green eyes filled her vision.

"Hermione," Harleen spoke calmly. "I promise you that I am completely healed of all injuries from the other night. If you'll calm down and give me a chance to _speak_, I'll explain."

Sheepishly, though still worried, Hermione nodded her head and the other girl slowly pulled her hand away from her mouth. When Hermione remained silent Harleen bent down and picked up the parchment that had fallen under the table when she'd dropped it, straightening to lay it out flat on the table, smoothing away the crease with one hand.

"These potions are mostly nutrient potions. Madam Pomfrey decided that I needed some help after the years of malnutrition I suffered at the hands of my relatives."

Hermione winced, well aware that everyone within hearing distance was straining to catch every word they spoke and she suddenly wanted to kick herself for bringing it up in such a public setting.

"You don't have to-"

"It's okay," Harleen interrupted her. "It's going to end up in the Prophet eventually. Might as well just get some of it out now." She gave Hermione a shaky smile before turning her attention back to the parchment, reading the instructions that Madam Pomfrey had written out on which potions to take. From what Hermione could make out, the first potion needed to be taken on a full stomach.

"Madam Pomfrey gave me a much more thorough examination than she usually does. Most of the time she doesn't search too deep, those kinds of scans are a little… invasive and are not usually to be done without permission from a student's guardian. Augusta gave her permission. Madam Pomfrey discovered that the years without proper nutrition have stunted my growth, and done some damage to my organs and bones."

She pulled out one of the potions and popped the cork, quickly downing it with a grimace of distaste before washing it down with a goblet of water. She shuddered, shaking her head furiously for a moment before she replaced the cork and put the empty vial back in the box along with the instructions.

"The nutrient potions are because my stomach is too small," she continued with her explanation. "It shrank, basically, because I never got enough to eat. I can't just try to eat more, though I _do_ need to slowly work on that, without possibly making myself sick. The potion is to help make sure I get enough of the nutrients I need. There's others in here to repair the damage to the rest of me. Organs and bones will recover, but unfortunately I'll never be as tall or as physically strong as I might have been able to be had I been raised well. Magic can do a lot, but it's been too many years to fix all of the damage."

Tears once again stung at Hermione's eyes and she was gripped by contrasting feelings of sorrow and rage. Sorrow for her friend, who was treated so terribly, and rage at the people that did this to her.

"Harleen… I'm so sor-"

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Hermione. I'm just going to have to get used to being short."

"You're not-"

"I'm short, Hermione," Harleen cut her off again, grinning wryly. "There's no getting around that. Remember me saying I would be lucky if I was five feet?"

Hermione nodded.

"Madam Malkin measured me when I was getting fitted yesterday. Turns out I wasn't quite as lucky as I could have been. I'm four feet eleven and a half inches tall, according to her. By the time I'm done growing, Madam Pomfrey thinks I might put on another four inches, at best. So yes, I'm short. I'm shorter than I would have been otherwise, but it's done and there's no changing it.

"The potions will help make sure I'm healthier and will help me be stronger but my height is another matter entirely. I'm not happy about it, but I can be unhappy, or I can accept it and move on. Being short isn't going to change how I live my life." She paused and quirked a grin at the girl beside her. "'Course, I might need your help getting something down from a high shelf now and again."

Hermione couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her and she suddenly leaned over, throwing her arms around Harleen's neck.

"You know how to do a summoning charm, Harleen Potter," she mumbled. "You can get your own things down from any high shelves, it's not like I'm _that_ much taller than you are."

"Oi! I thought there wasn't a scenario that exists," Harleen teased her and Hermione snorted out another laugh.

"I'll always be there for you for the important things."

"What if I need something important from that shelf?"

"Are you a witch or aren't you?"

"Meh, fine. I'll take care of my own high shelves," Harleen muttered, smiling broadly into the wild mane of Hermione's hair as she wrapped her own arms around the other girl in a tight hug for a few moments before slowly pulling away.

Mutters were spreading their way through the Hall, and they both knew that before the end of the day the entire school would know what Harleen had said, or at least, a version of what she'd said. The rumour mill may have worked fast around Hogwarts, but that didn't mean it was always accurate, and something was bound to be lost in the retelling along the way.

Silently the two girls gathered their bags and rose to leave the Great Hall, Neville falling into step with them as the noise grew even louder in their wake.

#####

Coming back from History of Magic for lunch, Harleen headed for the Hufflepuff table, a still shocked Hermione walking beside her. She quickly settled onto the bench, doing her absolute best to ignore the whispers that were spreading and the way more and more people began staring at her. Expressions ranged from disbelief, awe, confusion, and others that she wasn't even able to identify. Truthfully, she was just glad no one at the table had started insulting or tearing into her about the tournament. Maybe they believed that she didn't actually enter her name?

"Harry?"

She lifted her head from her plate at the sound of the voice to find Cedric standing across the table from her, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

Hesitantly, she offered a small smile and gestured to the seat across from her. "Hey, Cedric. Sit down, it _is_ your House table."

His lips twitching up into a small grin, he sat, placing his bag on the bench beside him and rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped together in front of his mouth as his eyes scanned over her face, making her feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable with the scrutiny. She shot a sidelong glance at Hermione beside her, but her bushy haired best friend looked out of it still, staring off into space as if she wasn't even registering the world around her. _It wasn't _that_ big a deal, seriously,_ she groused mentally as she turned her attention back to the Hufflepuff.

"Wow," he finally said a few moments later. "It's uncanny, really."

She quirked a brow in his direction and he flushed a moment later.

"I'm sorry. It's just… I mean we just heard this morning about your… change," he said delicately. "I was just thinking that you really don't look all _that_ different. I mean… different, yeah, but it's pretty easy to tell that it's still _you_, if that makes any sense at all?"

Harleen smiled again. "It's the hair and the eyes," she said. "Pretty distinctive features really."

Cedric laughed quietly, shaking his head for a moment. "No, it's more than that. But I won't be a bother about it." A few moments later his laughing subsided and he took on a much more serious expression, causing her to sit up straighter in her seat as he appeared to be trying to pick his words before he next spoke.

"About this tournament. I want you to know that I believe you. I don't think you entered your name, and after the announcement you made the night it happened I've been doing my best to convince the rest of my House of that." He gestured with one hand in a motion that seemed to encompass the entire Hall around them. "I've heard the rumours over the years. All the adventures you and your friends have gotten into. Can't say as I know what's true and what's not, but I figure one thing is true enough out of all of it. You've never talked about it; Never taken credit, bragged, or boasted.

"Some people seem to think you're trying to steal some fame or glory for yourself, but the way I see it is you're already more famous than I'd ever be for winning this tournament, if I win. I don't see that you _need_ any more fame or glory and from what I've seen you've always tried to stay out of the spotlight whenever possible. You've kept to a very small group of friends and you don't show off, except on the Quidditch Pitch. So I'm pretty sure you didn't put your name in or ask someone to do it for you. You just don't strike me as the type."

A wash of relief flooded over her, surprising her with the intensity of it as she hadn't quite realized just how worried she had been that people still wouldn't believe her. She'd thought she was ready to accept that people would go on as they had the last time. It was an altogether pleasant feeling to realize that she might have more people on her side than she'd ever had before.

"Thank you, Cedric. I appreciate that, and I promise you, I really didn't enter my name. I was looking forward to being a spectator and not being involved in anything dangerous or life threatening this year. But I guess the world has it in for me."

"Do they have any idea who put your name in?" he asked as he served himself a plate and started eating.

She shrugged. "Not sure. No one has said anything to me about it since that night. Madam Bones was here and offered some of her Aurors to help investigate but I don't know if anything actually came of it."

Cedric hummed wordlessly around a mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully for a time before he swallowed and shrugged his shoulders. "We haven't seen any Aurors, or what looks like any kind of investigation. They took the goblet away after the rest of us were sent back to our dorms, and there hasn't been a word about it until this morning when Dumbledore mentioned it in relation to what happened to you."

Just as Harleen opened her mouth to say something, Hermione suddenly reached out and clamped a hand down on her forearm with enough force to make the raven haired teen wince in pain.

"You! Exorcised! Professor! Binns!"

Each word was bitten off in a shocked tone, bordering on an outraged shriek.

"I did no such thing!" Harleen insisted, struggling ineffectually to retrieve her arm. "Hermione, you're hurting me!"

The hand on her arm suddenly unclenched, releasing her and Harleen pulled her arm close to her chest amidst a slew of apologies from the girl beside her that she quickly waved away.

"I didn't exorcise Binns, I just-"

"_Professor_ Binns!"

"Wait, Binns is _gone_?" Cedric interrupted.

"Yes, he's gone, but I didn't-"

"Miss Potter?"

Harleen let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at her barely touched plate before she turned to face Professor McGonagall.

"Something I can help you with, Professor?" she asked as calmly as she could.

Harleen wasn't entirely sure what to make of her Head of House's expression. She didn't _seem_ particularly annoyed, but it wasn't always easy to tell with the stern visage she normally showed the world around her.

"The Headmaster wishes to speak with you in his office," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

"Would this have anything to do with what happened during History of Magic?"

"To my knowledge, that is entirely what this meeting is about."

"Will you be there as well?"

Professor McGonagall arched a brow at that, her expression becoming curious. "I can be."

"That would be preferable. Required, actually." Harleen thought for a moment, the fingers of her right hand taping idly against the surface of the table as she considered the situation. "I have a letter for the Headmaster from my new guardian, so that all works out rather nicely."

She grabbed her bag and stood, stopping to glance at Hermione and Cedric. "Meet me at the Hospital Wing when you're done eating?" she asked her friend.

"Of course. Is anything wrong?" Hermione asked, a worried note in her voice and shining in her eyes.

Harleen shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong. Madam Pomfrey offered some basic anatomy lessons and said that you could join us if you wanted. I'd… I'd like it, if you were there. But don't feel obligated if you have work to catch up on, or something."

Hermione waved away the concern. "You know I'm always ahead in my classes. Don't worry, I'll be there."

Harleen gave her a relieved smile then turned toward Cedric. "Think I could ask you for a small favor?"

Cedric tilted his head slightly to one said, watching her carefully. "I'd have to say that it probably depends on the favor."

"I was hoping that you might help spread the word around the school, and help me avoid having to answer the same question a hundred times. Could you let people know that my name is Harleen, but I'll still answer to Harry? I think that might help a little once people start talking _to_ me again instead of just talking _about_ me."

Cedric grinned and nodded his head as he straightened up in his seat. "Simple enough," he said. "I can do that and… that's a nice name, Harleen."

She flashed a quick smile, her cheeks turning slightly pink before she turned around and addressed the patiently waiting professor. "I'm ready, Professor, sorry for the wait."

"Quite alright. Come along then, Miss Potter."

Harleen fell into step with her Head of House, her mind spinning as the two of them made their way toward the tower that housed the Headmaster's Office. Neither witch spoke during the journey, each occupied by their own thoughts and, before Harleen knew it, they were standing in front of the gargoyle that served as the guardian to the office.

Professor McGonagall gave the password (ice mice) and they stepped onto the revolving staircase after the gargoyle moved aside, letting it carry them up to the corridor at the top.

"Please, come in Minerva," Dumbledore's voice came through the door at the end of the corridor, just before she could knock. Harleen swore she saw the woman roll her eyes and choked back a giggle at her obvious disdain for the old man's theatrics.

The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk, as expected. Also as expected, or at least as Harleen had expected, Snape stood leaning against one wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Hullo, Fawkes," Harleen greeted the Phoenix where he sat on his perch. Fawkes let out a welcoming trill, the pure notes filling the air with a calming atmosphere. She paused to stroke the large bird's head and neck as she passed him.

"Thank you for bringing Miss Potter, Minerva," Dumbledore spoke up. "You may return to your duties."

"I'm very sorry, Headmaster, but you are incorrect," Harleen cut in before McGonagall could say anything. "Professor McGonagall will be staying here and your Potions Master will be leaving or I will walk right back out of this office."

An absolutely stunned silence met that announcement and Harleen started counting back from five in her head. She only reached three when Snape blew his top.

"You arrogant little sh-"

"Severus!"

Snape cut off and spun to face the Headmaster, pushing off from the wall he was leaning against and dropping his arms to gesture toward Harleen with one hand.

"Albus, I have been telling you this brat has always been just as much trouble as his father was! You cannot let a student speak like that!"

"I have already explained that Miss Potter is a girl. It has _all_ been explained to you and your insistence on using male pronouns is already wearing thin, Severus, as has this grudge you've held against her father," Dumbledore thundered back, rocking the man on his heels.

"_I_ have also already spoken to you about your probation," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Speak to _any_ student like that again and we will be looking for a new professor of potions on top of our apparent need for a history professor!"

Silence fell again, broken only by the sound of footsteps as Harleen walked closer to the desk and set her bag down on one of the two chairs sitting in front of it.

"I have a letter here from my guardian for you, Headmaster," she said as she started digging in her bag.

"I am still your guardian, Miss Potter."

"Again, you are incorrect. Yesterday, Madam Longbottom, as Regent of House Longbottom, accepted me under the protection of her House. _She_ is my legal and magical guardian and after we talked yesterday during our shopping trip in Diagon Alley, she has decided to insist on some restrictions regarding who has access to me."

"I did not approve any trips outside of the school," Dumbledore tried, a frown creasing his brow.

"I did," Professor McGonagall cut in. "As Miss Potter was being escorted by her guardian it was within my ability to grant, and the poor girl was in dire need of appropriate clothing and supplies."

Harleen found the letter and pulled it out of her bag, setting it on the Headmaster's desk, rather than handing it to him directly.

"I haven't read it myself," she said. "But Madam Longbottom told me the gist of it as well as the rules to be followed. First, I am to have no meetings with you, Headmaster, without either my Head of House or my guardian present. Second, outside of class I am to have no interaction with Severus Snape, period. I will never meet with him alone and will serve no detentions with him. As Augusta put it, she said, 'I won't let you have anything to do with that goat-buggering old fool, or his pet Death Eater, if I can help it'. That is a direct quote.

"Also, any meetings with you must be directly related to my education or some other school related matter, or I was told not to attend, even with Professor McGonagall or Augusta herself present."

Finished, Harleen took a seat and spent a few moments observing the adults around her. Her Head of House appeared surprised, but her lips twitched as if she were struggling to hold back a smile. When she glanced in Harleen's direction the girl couldn't help but give her a cheeky grin and a wink, to which the professor scowled, though her eyes shone with amusement. Snape, normally very pale from spending much of his time in his windowless dungeons was edging toward a shade of puce that Harleen didn't feel was healthy in the slightest. She was also pretty sure that she could hear him grinding his teeth.

The Headmaster looked resigned, even sad, as he read through the letter, his shoulders slumped in apparent defeat. Harleen felt a small twinge of guilt but shoved it aside. The old man wasn't a bad guy, per se, but until he learned to stop trying to interfere with other people's lives, particularly her own, he couldn't be trusted as far as Harleen could throw Hagrid, without the use of magic.

"I freely admit that I have made many mistakes in regards to you, young lady," Dumbledore spoke softly. "Honest mistakes with no intended malice. Is all this truly necessary?"

Harleen said nothing and stared at a painting on the wall over the Headmaster's shoulder.

After nearly a minute of silence he sighed and set the letter down on his desk. "Severus, I believe you may return to your duties. Madam Longbottom has made her wishes clear and we will abide by them."

"What am I to do if I come across… _Potter _breaking school rules outside of my class?" Snape demanded.

"Bring it to my attention and I will take care of any discipline," McGonagall said, moving to stand behind Harleen's chair.

Snape growled something under his breath then stormed from the office, slamming the door behind him.

"Did Madam Bones speak with you yesterday?" Harleen asked before either Professor could say anything and Dumbledore blinked, slightly taken aback by the question.

"She did, indeed," he admitted with a rueful chuckle. "She… I believe the phrase is 'raked me over the coals', over my somewhat disingenuous answers to her questions the day before."

"Why weren't you just honest with her, Professor?" she asked, honestly curious why it was the old man seemed so insistent on consistently keeping information to himself.

"I have always worried that the more people knew about the fact that Tom was still alive, the more dangerous he would become. If more of his followers that no doubt still reside within the Ministry knew, they would probably have sought him out long before now to attempt to return him to power."

"And you think that Madam Bones, of all people, could be one of those followers? Or that she doesn't know how to compartmentalize information?"

Dumbledore hummed quietly to himself. "Perhaps… perhaps I have too long felt that I needed to handle things on my own," he admitted slowly.

Harleen said nothing further, happy with the seed she'd planted and waited for the Headmaster to move on.

"Well," Dumbledore finally began, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded atop his beard. "Miss Potter, I was wondering if you might explain what happened in class today?"

Harleen started slightly, having almost forgotten the reason she'd originally been called into the office to begin with.

"I'd like to point out that I did _not_ exorcise Professor Binns," she stated as clearly as she could. "I wouldn't even know how to go about trying."

"No one is accusing you of anything, nor are you in any trouble," Dumbledore assured her. "I simply wish to understand the events that took place, nothing more."

Nodding, her brow furrowed in thought as she considered the lesson that had taken place earlier that day before she slowly started speaking. "Most of the class was asleep," she said. "A lot of students tend to look at Binns' class as scheduled nap time since he was always so dull. Toward the end of class I was curious and I raised my hand and asked if he had ever considered retiring. I mean, I learn more from reading the book than I did in any of his classes really, and he just teaches the same things over and over, I figure that's _got_ to get boring, even for him.

"He seemed surprised at first, called me Miss Jameson for some reason, then said he intended to teach here until the day he died." Harleen shrugged, "I didn't _mean_ for anything to happen, but I pointed out to him that he was already dead. He was _really_ startled to hear that and looked down at himself for a minute and then… he just sort of faded away."

She fell silent and shrugged again, not entirely sure what else to say. Reaper had told her to get rid of Binns, but she never guessed it would have been that easy, nor had she even been trying at the time.

_If only it was that simple to get rid of Snape, or Voldemort,_ she thought.

"Thank you for telling me, Miss Potter. As I said, you are not in any trouble, however it appears that I must find a replacement professor. Thank you for your time."

Recognizing a dismissal when she heard it, Harleen nodded and stood, grabbing her bag and slinging it over one shoulder as she turned to follow her Head of House out of the room. At the door she paused, hesitating for a few seconds before she let out a long sigh.

"Headmaster?" she called, her back still to the room.

"Miss Potter?"

"I want to work with you," she said. "I want to be able to trust you, but you've made too many mistakes, and spent too much time focusing on controlling my life. You've stopped seeing _people _and instead see only the bigger picture, not how it affects the individuals. There's a war coming, Headmaster. You know it as well as I do. It's been coming for a long time, and I think we both know that I'm going to be a key player in this war.

"Your vaunted 'Greater Good' will see people dying. A lot of people. Good people. People that don't deserve it. If you can prove to me that you've stopped looking at people like disposable chess pieces, stop trying to save the enemy by sacrificing your allies, I think that we could have a lot to teach each other, and I think we'd have a better chance, working together, of ending things with the least possible loss of life than if we remain at odds."

Dumbledore was silent for a time while Professor McGonagall was giving her a searching look but she ignored her professor, instead keeping her focus on the room behind her.

"How am I to prove such a thing to you, Miss Potter?" she finally heard him say in a weary tone and she couldn't help the small smirk that twisted her lips.

"You're Albus Dumbledore," she said. "I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out."

With that, she let go of the door she'd been holding open and started walking down the stairs as it swung closed behind her with a soft, but still audible, click.


	8. Of Struggles and Foxes

**Author's notes: All right, gang. This is the last pre-written chapter that I have finished. Apologies for that but things have just been difficult and I haven't made quite as much headway on chapter 09 as I'd have liked, much less anything else though I AM still working on all my other stories so don't worry that things won't be completed. They're just slowing down, as unfortunate as that is.**

**I'd like to make a couple clarifications for the sake of this story before moving forward. For the purposes of this piece of fiction, we're assuming that canon material happened exactly as it did in the books with a few exceptions. First, Harry kissing Hermione during their dance in the tent, which I know was movie version and not book version but I love that scene so it's there. Also, when Ron left during the hunt, he never came back and no, we don't know why. As far as everything else, Harry and Hermione carried on without Ron and things happened just the same. Dobby took them to Shell Cottage just as he was getting hit with Bellatrix's knife. **

**The other big difference from Canon… Harleen does not know that she is a Horcrux. In the shrieking shack, they heard Snape say that he was a spy for the light and never really worked for Voldemort, but he died before he was able to give up the memories that told Harry he was a horcrux, so Harleen has no idea at this point in time. **

**Moving on, some funny parts in this chapter as well as some introspection and growth, I feel. Hope you all like it.**

**Diclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Here be Chapter 08 of A Fair Life**

A Fair Life

Of Struggles and Foxes

by,

Rtnwriter

Slowly, the door to Madam Pomfrey's office opened, letting two figures exit the room into the open ward of the Hospital Wing. One of the two appeared… distraught, her raven black hair a sharp contrast to the pasty pallor of her skin. She had an expression on her face that passably resembled abject horror mixed with disgust. Beside her, the second figure was completely oblivious to her companion's discomfort, busily shuffling through several sheaves of parchment and occasionally pausing to make a note with the self-inking quill that she had tucked behind her ear.

"Thank you for inviting me to sit in, Harleen," the more studious of the two figures spoke, her eyes still focused on the stack of parchment in her hands. "I knew quite a bit of the basic anatomy actually, since my parents are both medical professionals and they insisted that I have a decent grounding after first year, however, I didn't realize that there were so many things that were different because I'm a witch. Our magic really does make a difference in how our bodies process things. That was really fascinating and should be very helpful information as well."

Harleen turned toward her best friend, the look of horror on her face morphing into dumbfounded shock. Her mouth opened, moving up and down silently several times before snapping closed with an audible clack of her teeth. Less than a second later she turned, hair flying wildly about her with the motion of her body as she practically fled from the Hospital Wing as fast as her feet could carry her without actually breaking into a run.

She heard Hermione call out to her but she simply shouted back, "I'm fine!" and kept going. Pushing her way through the heavy doors and out into the corridors, moving as rapidly as she could lower into the large castle. Try as she might, as she walked, she couldn't help but think over the 'lesson' she'd just been subjected to.

_Labia majora and minora, mons pubis, cli-_

She shook her head, striving to dispel those thoughts. There were some things she just didn't want to know, and if her brain continued on that topic it would naturally move from the, theoretically, fun parts of her body and into the less entertaining. Madam Pomfrey had been very thorough in her discussion of menstruation and everything else that went with being female that she realized most guys were happy _not_ to know.

_Wish I could forget most of it too._

She looked up when she realized there was grass under her shoes and noticed that she'd somehow managed to walk all the way down to the Quidditch Pitch without even noticing where she was going. For half a moment she considered summoning her broom from the castle but a few things stopped her.

One, it was locked in the new lady's trunk that Madam Longbottom had purchased for her, and two, she didn't know if a window was open in whichever dorm room her trunk now resided. Last thing she wanted to do was break a window and possibly her prized broom.

The other thing that stopped her was the touch of the cool breeze against her bare legs beneath the hem of her skirt. She scowled down at the item, idly noting that she'd almost forgotten she was wearing the cursed thing until that moment. She really wasn't sure how to go about riding a broom while dressed in a skirt.

_This is just part of why I wanted my slacks,_ she grumbled internally, making her way over to one of the team benches that ran near the edge of the pitch to sink onto it dejectedly. She wasn't alone for long when the sound of footsteps rustling the grass and a voice, raised to carry, reached her ears.

"You probably don't want to sit like that anymore, Harry."

She lifted her head from where she'd been staring at the grass between her shoes to find the trio of girls most commonly referred to around the school as the Flying Foxes of Gryffindor approaching her, all three of them with a broom in hand and dressed in their Quidditch leathers, minus the robes. She cocked her head slightly to one side as she thought over what Angelina had just said to her before looking back down. She was sitting on the bench, her knees spread and feet planted at least shoulder width apart with her elbows resting on her thighs, her upturned hands supporting her chin.

She let out a squeak when it clicked that the girls walking toward her had a clear view up her skirt and she sat up, almost slamming her legs together and smoothing the skirt down over her knees with her hands, a bright flush staining her cheeks once again.

The girls smiled, unable to hold back though she was grateful that none of them laughed. Rather unceremoniously Angelina dropped onto the bench beside her, nudging her gently with one elbow.

"I get that you used to sit that way a lot as a boy, but you've got to keep in mind how you're dressed as a girl. Can't sit that way unless you're in trousers, not unless you want to give anyone happening by a free show. Cute knickers, by the way." She added the last sentence with a teasing smile on her lips.

Harleen groaned and buried her face in her hands. Another body dropped onto the bench on her other side and she peeked out of the corner of her eye to find Alicia sitting beside her, with Katie still standing in front of them, leaning slightly on her broom.

"So, is this the first round of interrogations from Gryffindor?" Harleen asked, warily and the three girls shared a look before turning their attention back to her.

"We can't say we're not curious, Harry," Katie admitted, almost sheepishly.

Beside her, it was Alicia's turn to nudge her with an elbow. "Bar anything else though, you're a friend and a teammate. We're not here to interrogate you, though we'll be happy to listen to anything you might want to say. Honestly, we saw you walk by in the entrance hall about twenty minutes ago, and you looked upset. We figured we'd come see if you needed any cheering up, maybe go for a fly? That always seems to help you when you're down about something."

Harleen blinked, sitting up straighter and focusing her attention on the sixth year.

"How would you know that?"

"We're not blind, Harry," Katie told her. "You've… well honestly the three of us have kind of looked at you something like a little brother the last few years. You were so timid and shy when you joined the team. We didn't want to overwhelm you but we've been keeping an eye on you a bit and we always noticed how peaceful and calm you look in the air."

"When you're not manic and crazy," Angelina added in, to which the other two chasers laughed quietly.

"Yeah, you're a lunatic on a broom, Potter."

While the girls shared a laugh, Harleen was openly gaping at them. She had no idea they'd paid that kind of attention to her in the past, not even in the last timeline had she ever known that and she suddenly found herself blinking back tears, something she felt was happening with far too much regularity over the last couple of days.

"You want to fly? We'll fly," Angelina murmured quietly to her, slipping one arm around Harleen's shoulders in a sort of half hug. "You want to talk about whatever was bothering you? We'll listen. We'll offer advice, if you want it, or we'll just let you vent, if that's what you'd prefer."

"You don't care that… I mean that I'm…" Harleen trailed off, unable to properly articulate what she wanted to say, or perhaps simply scared to.

"Can't say that we understand what's happened to you, Harry. I'm not sure I'd have the slightest clue how to even try. But in the end, you're still Harry Potter, aren't you?" Katie asked, moving closer and leaning down until the two were eye to eye. "You're still _you_. You're still a part of our team and you're still a Gryffindor. Not everyone is going to treat you the same, but you should know that we've got your back, no matter what."

Slightly awed, Harleen could only stammer out a quiet 'thanks'.

"So, did you want to talk about whatever had you in such a state?" Katie asked, sitting on the grass and leaning back against Alicia's legs.

Harleen groaned again and slumped in her seat between the two sixth year girls on either side of her. Her first instinct was to say she was fine, as she always did, but she managed to stop herself and considered the situation carefully for a moment. _Reaper told you you can't pull the lone hero shit anymore,_ she reminded herself. _This isn't exactly the same but… would it really hurt to open up a little? I _am_ supposed to be working on my friendships and gods I hate thinking about that like it's a mission I have to complete. Why can't I make friends just to be friends with someone?_

Almost immediately the answer came to her. _Because you're Harry Potter._

"I'm just… having trouble, I guess," she finally admitted.

"How so?"

She shrugged at Angelina's question.

"I…" She sighed and leaned slightly into the taller girl whose arm was still wrapped around her shoulders. "I'm not sure I'm doing a very good job at this whole 'being a girl' thing," she muttered.

The chasers glanced at each other again, Katie tilting her head back to look upside down at Alicia behind her before turning back to Harleen.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"It's just all so much!" she burst out. "I mean, the last couple of days have just been one crazy ride of ups and downs. I feel like I'm losing my mind half the time. Madam Pomfrey had to give me a basic anatomy lesson earlier since I know next to nothing about how girls' bodies are different from boys. I was beyond disgusted at the whole idea of having a period and everything else and… gods, I just feel like I'm never going to get the hang of this.

"This is who I am. This is _what _I am. But I didn't grow up with it and I can't see me ever really getting used to everything that goes with it. I feel _right_ in this skin, but I noticed today some things are weird and I'm not sure why. I'm pretty sure I'm going to drive Hermione away because I keep having to ask her questions about things I don't understand that turn out to be really embarrassing or personal and I… I just… it just feels like it's too much to deal with. I didn't think it was going to be easy but why does it feel even harder than I expected it to be?"

By the time she finished Alicia had wrapped an arm around her as well, opposite Angelina and Katie had turned in her spot on the grass, the three girls each giving her their undivided attention as she vented the thoughts that had been churning at the back of her mind all day.

"That's a lot to have to deal with, no question about that," Angelina told her softly. "Did you want some advice?"

Harleen shrugged listlessly. "Don't know what advice you could offer, but sure, why not?"

"Rule number one: Don't sweat the small stuff," Angelina said, grinning at her when Harleen turned a startled look in her direction before spinning to Alicia when the other girl spoke up.

"Rule number two: It's _all_ small stuff."

"Wha?"

"Harry, you've been back to being a girl… what not even two full days yet?" Katie cut in causing Harleen to nod her head silently. "Seriously… give yourself some time! You're not going to adjust to everything overnight. If you get bent out of shape over every little thing that you're figuring out you'll just make yourself sick. You should give yourself some credit too, for not completely freaking out in the first place. Hell, I think I'd have a nervous breakdown if I woke up tomorrow and found out I'd been born a boy and was suddenly switched back to being that." Katie shuddered, somewhat theatrically, but the discomfort she felt at the idea was real.

"You'll learn as you go. It might take a few months or longer even, but eventually, one day you'll realize you've got a handle on everything. It'll become routine and you'll be more comfortable in your skin," Angelina offered.

"We'll help too," Katie chirped. "What's weird?"

Harleen blinked in surprise. "Wait, what?"

"You said you noticed some things were weird. What were they? Maybe we can help?"

Harleen thought about the offer for a moment before shrugging again. _What the hell, you've come this far._

"Well… my balance feels off and walking feels different too. My hips and my lower back are sore and I'm not really certain why. I haven't done anything today that should make me sore."

Angelina had a thoughtful look on her face. "I think I might have a guess why your balance feels off and why your back is sore."

"Really?" Harleen asked, surprised. "That's kind of quick."

"The reasons are fairly obvious," the older witch spoke in a wry tone. "First, and sorry to say it, but you're shorter than you were a couple days ago, your center of gravity is different. Plus… well, you're a bit more top heavy than you used to be."

"Top he-" Harleen broke off and looked down at her chest, flushing brightly a few seconds later.

Katie burst out giggling while Alicia swatted the top of her head. "Most girls breasts develop over time and their bodies have time to get used to it, toning the muscles that help support the upper body gradually as they grow. You literally changed pretty much instantly and your body just isn't used to having that extra weight you're carrying around."

"Seriously, how big are those things anyway?" Katie snorted. "Ow!" She rubbed the top of her head where Alicia had just smacked her again.

"Ignore her, Harry, she's a child."

"They're not that big," Harleen muttered, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'd guess you're in the C range," Angelina muttered, looking thoughtfully at her. "About the same size as Hermione actually."

"So?"

"Well, for a girl with Hermione's height and build her breasts are pretty much in proportion with her frame. You're smaller than she is, yet your chest is probably about the same size, so on your frame they look a lot bigger than they actually are."

"You know, I haven't been looking forward to the idea that I'm sure I'll catch some bloke staring at my chest at some point," Harleen muttered. "Am I really gonna have to worry about you girls staring too?"

The three of them laughed again before Katie leered at her in a comically exaggerated fashion. "Well, you _are_ fairly delicious looking as a girl, Harry, but I can honestly tell you that you're safe from me. I'm not interested in girls beyond being friends."

"On a serious note though," Alicia cut in, "How did you get so lucky?"

Harleen stared at her blankly.

"I'm not kidding. As a boy you were an adorable cutie, Harry, but girl you? Damn, you're hot!"

"Alright, let's stop embarrassing her," Angelina intervened after Harleen's face was nearly as red as her Gryffindor tie. "Getting back to why I brought up your… shape. I'm pretty sure the rapid change is why your back is aching, your body just hasn't had time to get used to the different way it carries your weight. It'll get better in time, and in between now and then I've got a cream in my locker that helps with sore muscles that I can give you."

Harleen nodded thoughtfully, grateful for something else to focus on as she considered Angelina's argument. It made sense and she couldn't think of any other possible explanation other than her body as a girl was weaker than the one she'd had as a boy. Logically she understood that women tended to be less physically strong than men, but she'd have thought that her level of fitness would carry over. It _was_ still her body, after all.

"Okay, that explains my back, what about my hips?"

"I've got a theory on that one," Katie spoke up, raising her hand and grinning cheerfully. "I'll need to see you walk first before I can confirm it."

"Walk?"

"Yes, walk." Katie stood and grabbed Harleen's hand, pulling the smaller girl to her feet despite groans and protests. "Just walk down about twenty feet, turn around, and come back. Don't think about it, just walk as if you're going somewhere."

"Well I am going somewhere, aren't I? I'm going exactly nowhere."

"No arguing, get to walking, woman!"

Sighing and rolling her eyes Harleen walked a ways down the side of the pitch before she turned and walked back. "I feel stupid," she complained as she reached the three older girls again. "Tell me I don't have to do that again?"

Katie smiled. "You don't have to do that again," she said. "And I do believe that I've figured out what your problem is."

"You have?" Harleen couldn't help but be surprised.

"Yup. It's how you're walking that's causing the pain in your hips."

Harleen frowned. "What do you mean _how_ I'm walking. I'm just walking, not doing anything special."

"I think I see what you mean, Katie," Alicia jumped in, nodding her head with her arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed in Harleen's direction. "She's walking like a boy."

Harleen threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "What are you talking about? I don't walk _like_ anything, I just walk."

"We're helping you, Harry, I promise," Katie told her. "Just bear with us for a moment, okay?"

Harleen huffed and sat back down on the bench, crossing her arms but grudgingly decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. "I'm hoping this is all going to make sense soon?"

"In just a few seconds. Angie, you want to walk it?"

Angelina nodded, unfolding her tall, willowy frame from the bench as she stood. "Yeah, I think I know what we're looking for." She moved a few steps away before turning back to Harleen.

"Alright, Harry, I'm going to repeat what you did but I want you to watch my arse while I'm walking."

Harleen jerked in surprise, her eyes growing wide. "W-what?" she stammered.

"It's important," Angelina insisted.

Harleen thought _that_ was taking things a step too far. The girls didn't know that she…

"I don't think that's a good idea," she argued. "Can't you just explain this to me?"

"A demonstration makes it much easier to explain what we're talking about," Katie answered.

_They don't know._

"No, that's okay." Harleen shook her head and stood to leave. "Don't worry about it."

"Harry, what's wrong?" Angelina asked, moving over to place her hands on her shoulders, holding the younger witch at arms length and carefully studying her face. "What are you upset about?"

Harleen couldn't meet the other girl's eyes. "I-I just don't think you really want me… um… you really don't want me staring at your…"

"Harry?"

Harleen stuttered to a stop and meekly looked up at Alicia who had come up to stand next to Angelina as Katie stepped up on the girls other side.

"Harry, we know that you're attracted to girls."

Harleen blinked several times, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

"W-wh-wha… how did you, I mean-"

"Harry it's okay," Katie said in a soothing voice. "I already told you, we're not blind. We've kept an eye on you and it's been pretty clear the few times we've noticed you checking out one girl or another. Your body may have changed but you're still you. I seriously doubt your preferences have changed just because your shape is different."

Harleen's mouth worked soundlessly several times before she was able to find her voice. "A-and you don't… you're not upset?"

Angelina shrugged. "Hey, you were always respectful in checking some girl out, even the few times we noticed you looking at one of us. Without being conceited, we're aware that we're fairly pretty, so we're kind of used to it. You'd check one us out now and again, but you never stared outright, or made us feel uncomfortable. Right now this isn't about you checking out my arse, there's an actual point that we're trying to show you so you need to watch me if you want to understand what we're talking about."

Harleen actually snorted out a laugh as one of the most beautiful girls in the entire school described the three of them as 'fairly pretty' before she managed to compose herself and give them a small smile.

"Okay," she said. "Well, if you're sure, go ahead."

Angelina flashed her a grin and gently pushed her back onto the bench before she turned and stepped away again. Katie and Alicia sat on either side of her.

"Now, watch the arse, Harry," Angelina said, giving her a wink over her shoulder even as she wiggled her bum in Harleen's direction.

"I'm beginning to think this whole thing is just an excuse for you to show off what a nice arse you've got," Harleen remarked in a dry tone, sending the three chasers off into fits of laughter.

"Focus, Harry."

Angelina started walking away from them across the pitch and Harleen paid careful attention to her teammate as the girl moved further away. She did her best not to think about how good Angelina looked in the leather Quidditch trousers while she was at it.

A moment later she blinked and straightened up in her spot on the bench.

"Wait, what was that?" she asked, her gaze fixed on where Angelina had just stopped and turned around to look at them.

"Did you see it?" Katie asked and Harleen slowly shook her head.

"I saw… _something_," she admitted, "but I'm not exactly sure what."

While Angelina was walking away from them, there had been a sudden shift in the motion of her body. Something that Harleen couldn't quite put her finger on but the older witch's hips had suddenly started swinging slightly from side to side as her body moved in a more fluid manner than it had been at first.

"Come on back Angie, she didn't quite catch it," Katie called and then turned her attention to Harleen. "Watch her feet this time while she's walking."

Obediently, Harleen's gaze drifted lower as Angelina started walking again. With each step, her foot would swing straight out in line with her shoulders, her toes pointing slightly outward, body moving side to side as she walked, feet striking the ground heavily. Half way back to the bench her stride suddenly changed. Her feet stopped moving straight outward and instead moved more toward the center of her body, each step landing almost directly in front of the one before it, toes pointing more inward with her legs closer together. With each step her hips swayed from side to side and her foot landed far more lightly on the ground.

"Okay, what was all that about?" Harleen asked when Angelina stopped in front of them.

"It's simple, and probably something your body would adjust more toward naturally over time, but right now you're so used to instinctively doing things a certain way that you're still doing it without even realizing it," Angelina started the explanation, dropping to sit cross legged on the grass in front of her.

"Men and women walk differently," Katie picked up the thread. "Men tend to walk with their legs and feet further apart, more straight out from the shoulder. Women tend to walk with our legs closer together. Women have wider hips than men do and our pelvic bones are actually shaped differently than a man's."

"When women walk, I'm sure you've noticed that there's a slight back and forth sway in the hips, right?" Alicia asked, drawing Harleen's attention to her.

"Well… yeah, I guess."

"That's not entirely an affectation that women put on, though I'm sure many will intentionally add a little extra swing in their hips if they know someone they like is looking at them. It's just a part of a natural gait for most women. Women tend to walk more lightly than men do as well. Men kind of plod along when they walk. Are your ankles and calves sore as well?"

Harleen blinked, thinking about Katie's question for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, actually. I hadn't really thought about it."

"When you walked for us earlier you were walking like a man. Your legs were far apart and your feet hit the ground kind of hard as you walked. My guess is that your body wants you to move a certain way, with your hips being wider and your pelvis shaped differently than it was the other day, but again, you're so used to walking the way you always have that you're just doing it without thinking and that's causing the strain in your muscles."

Harleen sighed and slumped in her seat again. "You know you're not making this whole thing any less overwhelming than it was before," she noted. "Now I've got to consider how I'm _walking_ on top of everything else?"

"I really think it's something you'll adjust to naturally as time goes on," Angelina said. "You move the way you do because that's the way your body was designed before now. You've got more than a decade of being a guy that's ingrained habits and mannerisms that aren't going to just disappear overnight. The longer you spend with _this_ body the more natural it'll all feel."

"So… don't worry about it?"

"Well, you could try to concentrate on changing your stride, but focus too much on it and you'll just be giving yourself something new to worry about. Maybe when we head back into the castle purposely try walking with your legs and feet closer in, then focus on something else. I'm pretty sure that eventually your body will adjust all on its own."

Silence fell over for the four of them for a time. Harleen found it interesting that it wasn't an uncomfortable silence at all. She actually felt closer to and more grateful for the three older girls than she ever had, and in the back of her mind she started considering ways to let them know how much she appreciated the effort they'd gone to to reassure her and make her feel welcome.

"You know you don't have to call me Harry, right?" she suddenly said, causing the three of them to exchange a bewildered look before turning their attention back to her.

"What do you mean?" Alicia asked.

"I asked Cedric in Hufflepuff to spread the word, but I guess it hasn't got around the whole school yet. My name's Harleen."

"Yeah, we heard that. We also heard that you were okay with being called Harry still," Katie pointed out and Harleen shrugged.

"I am, I just… I don't know what I thought, I guess I just expected more people to use my actual name."

"We'll call you Harleen if you'd prefer it. We just figured that with everything that's changed you might appreciate a little something normal like us calling you Harry like we always have."

Harleen stared at Angelina for a moment after that statement, not entirely certain what she was feeling but sure that it was nearly overwhelming, whatever it was. A small smile turned up the corner of her lips.

"Thanks," she murmured quietly. "I… I hadn't even thought about it. Call me Harleen if you want, but you're right, Harry will do."

"What if we combined them and called you Harley?" Katie asked, grinning at her as Harleen blanched.

"Oh gods, whatever you do, _please_ don't do that," she laughed, her face twisting into a disgusted expression that had all three of them giggling at her.

"Come on," Angelina said, climbing to her feet and moving over to pick up her broom. "We're out at the Quidditch Pitch, you should get in some flying."

"I don't have my broom, and I'm pretty certain it'd be a bad idea to try and fly in this," Harleen sighed, glaring down at the skirt that covered her thighs.

Alicia let out a snort. "Do you honestly think Professor McGonagall wouldn't have gotten you a new uniform?" she asked.

"Wait, she what?" Harleen gaped, looking up at the girls who were now all standing with a broom in hand.

"She contacted Madam Malkin yesterday and had a new uniform made for you to your new measurements. It's in your locker in the changing rooms _and,"_ Katie paused, drawing out her explanation with a teasing grin until Harleen thought she might shake the other girl, "we brought an extra broom. We put that in your locker with your new kit. It's not your Firebolt, but it'll do for right now."

"Go on and change," Angelina said, grabbing Harleen's hand and hauling her to her feet. "We'll wait here."

Grinning excitedly, all worries and concerns suddenly vanished from her mind, Harleen lunged forward and wrapped the taller girl in a grateful hug before she turned and sprinted across the pitch toward the locker rooms. Just before she reached the door she suddenly shifted direction as a voice called out behind her, "your locker is on the girls' side now, Harry!"

#####

_There has got to be some rule or law being broken here,_ Hermione thought as she sat, frozen on the sofa near the fireplace, her favorite spot in the whole of Gryffindor Tower. _No way in hell is that not indecent._

Five minutes previously, Harleen and the Flying Foxes had walked into the Tower, laughing and talking cheerfully with each other, brooms slung over their shoulders and each of them dressed in their team uniforms but without the over robes that were a part of it. Harleen had waved at her, smiling brightly, but walked across the Common Room, still talking to the other girls and Hermione couldn't help but feel her eyes drawn to the way the leather trousers hugged her friend's body, showing off the new curves she'd acquired that were doing terrible things to Hermione's heart rate.

_It's not fair,_ she let herself whine within the privacy of her own thoughts, her eyes still following her friend's swaying bum as she stood and spoke with the Foxes on the other side of the room._ I'm trying to be a good friend here. I'm trying to give her time and let her adjust and then she comes in here looking like _that! _Doesn't she realize a girl only has so much self control?!_

Suppressing the urge to groan or hit her head against the table in front of her, Hermione tried to focus on her notes and her classwork. After Harleen had run off earlier she'd been worried, but a few seconds thought reminded her that their lesson had probably been somewhat traumatizing for the recently transformed girl that was her best friend. She hadn't helped the situation either, being her usual swotty self, so she'd decided to give Harleen some space to let her come to terms with things on her own.

It hadn't been an easy decision to make in the slightest, and in execution it was even harder as every part of her was screaming at her to find her friend and comfort her, but she'd done it, and it looked like Harleen had found something to cheer her up. Smiling softly to herself Hermione looked across the room to see the girl she'd just been thinking of walking toward her. She frowned slightly as something seemed different about her best friend, but she couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Everything okay?" Harleen asked as she dropped into an armchair near her, a concerned expression on her face.

Hermione sat up, banishing the frown and offering up a small smile. "Yes, everything is fine," she said. "Just… something seems different about you and I was trying to figure out what it was."

Harleen looked confused but shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know," she said. "Let me know if you figure it out?"

Hermione nodded, setting her quill down and turning slightly in her seat to focus more fully on her friend.

"I'm sorry I took off like I did earlier. I was… I was just a little overwhelmed by everything."

"That's fine, I should have considered how difficult that would have been for you."

"Hermione," Harleen sighed in an exasperated tone. "You know you really can take too much on yourself. You can't honestly expect that you'll be able to predict or anticipate everything. _I_ didn't even realize how overwhelming the whole thing was likely to be. I thought it'd just be slightly embarrassing but… Merlin's beard, women really got the fuzzy end of the biological lollipop when humans evolved, didn't we?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open for a second. "Fuzzy end of…" She couldn't finish the sentence before she suddenly burst out laughing.

"Well what would you call it?" Harleen asked over Hermione's laughter. "Women have to go through a pretty unpleasant and uncomfortable experience once a month. We're not as strong as men are physically. There's all these rules to follow just to use the toilet! I mean seriously, guys have it easy in comparison."

"Brother dear, I do believe my ears are playing tricks on me."

Harleen groaned and Hermione struggled to reign in her laughter as they both turned toward an approaching, grinning pair of red heads.

"If yours are, then mine are too," said the twin on the right. "I could swear to have heard a sound I never thought to hear." His tone of voice was awed, almost reverent.

"The laughter of the beauteous Miss Hermione Granger?" chimed in the twin on the left.

"The very same! O she of the righteous quill and stern external veneer! Very much like our Head of House."

"You know McGonagall secretly loves us, Fred."

"Oi! I thought you were Fred!"

"No, you're Fred and I'm George."

The twin on the right looked unconvinced. "Are you sure? I'm positive the schedule said that you were Fred every Tuesday, Thursday, and opposite Friday."

"Fred?"

"Yes, Fred?"

"It's Wednesday."

"Oh… well I guess I am Fred."

"Boys," Harleen managed to interject between their byplay and her own laughter at their antics, "as entertaining as you are, is there a reason you came over?"

Both twins suddenly stood very straight, eyeing Harleen distrustfully and Hermione found any trace of mirth wiped away in sudden concern. For a moment she had forgotten that they still weren't entirely certain what the rest of their House, or the school, thought about her entrance into the tournament.

"There she is, Fred," said the twin on the left, George, if the two could be believed.

"The deceiver."

"The charlatan."

"The wolf in sheep's clothing."

"Shouldn't she be a wolf in lion's clothing?"

"But then we would suspect her of being dangerous, not this lovely, but conniving vixen we have before us."

"Ah, vixen, a term for a female fox, as in, as clever as a fox?"

"Precisely."

"What are you two on about now?" Harleen cut in again, an irritated look on her face as the boys turned back to her from where they'd been debating with each other.

Suddenly both of them leaped a step back, pointing an accusing finger at her. "We know your game, Miss Potter!" Fred exclaimed.

"Pretending to be a bloke all these years."

"Trying to learn the secrets of the Brotherhood."

"Nay, foul wench! We stand before you to declare that no woman shall ever unravel the secrets of men."

"We shall protect our brothers, wherever they may be. Women have tried for eons to understand the male of our species and we shall stand firm and deny our secrets from ever being repeated upon witches' ears!"

"Uh… guys?" Harleen almost hesitantly spoke up.

"Yes, Harry?"

"You do know that I really _was_ male, transfigured against my will, but still, for more than ten years?"

"A clever ruse!"

"I lived in a dorm with four other blokes for three years," she cut in in a dry, deadpan tone of voice. "Trust me. Men have no secrets. You're simple creatures."

Again the twins jumped back, now with exaggerated expressions of horror on their faces. "Merlin's saggy y-fronts! She's figured us out!"

They suddenly dropped to their knees, crawling forward toward Harleen with their hands clasped in front of them in supplication. "Please, dear beautiful one. We beg of you. Please do not tell of our weakness to the women of the world."

"Truly, if they knew, we men would be naught but puppets to dance to their tune. Let us have the illusion of being remotely equal to your blinding radiance, oh Goddess of Lions."

Fred straightened up from where the two had prostrated themselves on the floor in front of a giggling Harleen and looked at his brother. "Goddess of Lions?" he asked. "That's a good one."

"Thanks. I was inspired."

"Think we've hammed it up enough?"

George, still prostrate next to his brother also straightened, a thoughtful expression on his face as he rubbed his chin with one hand for a few moments before nodding his head. "Yeah, I think so."

With that they jumped to their feet and turned, bowing theatrically to a laughing Common Room full of students.

"Thank you! Thank you! We'll be here all week!"

"Oi! We'll be here the rest of the school year or mum will skin us alive!"

By the time they turned back around Hermione had gotten to her own feet and pulled the two jokers into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around either twin.

"And _that_ is why you two are my favorite Weasleys," she murmured softly

"You heard it, Harry-"

"- we're her favorites!"

She pulled back and glared up at them. "Don't make me regret that," she admonished sternly.

The two stepped back and snapped off a salute to her. "Never, dear Lady."

One of the two boys, George, Hermione thought, stepped forward and picked up the broom Harleen had leaned against the side of her chair.

"How'd she treat you?" he asked her as he slung the broom over his shoulder.

"Well she's not my Firebolt, but for a Cleansweep Seven she handled great and I was still able to get plenty of acceleration in a dive. Thanks for letting the girls borrow it."

"Our Chasers informed us that our-"

"-Seeker needed a little air time," the two said with a shrug.

"No way we weren't-

"-going to help out. You're an honorary-"

"-Weasley, Harry. We've always wanted another little sister."

Harleen was grinning broadly for a few moments before her expression twisted into a frown. "Hold up," she muttered. "You're not gonna start treating me like you do Ginny, are you?"

"However do you mean?" they asked in unison, wide eyed expressions of innocence etched onto their freckled faces.

"You know, threatening anyone that gets too friendly. Attempting to test your prank items… you're afraid of Ginny and her Bat-Bogey Hex… don't forget _I'm_ the top student in Defense in our year. I know a lot more curses and hexes than Ginny does, _and_ I'm not afraid to hit you where it hurts."

The twins paled, exchanging a silent look between the two of them before they threw themselves on the ground at Harleen's feet again, loudly begging forgiveness and crying for leniency.

Laughing again, she reached down and grabbed them by their collars, yanking on them in order to urge them to their feet. "Oh, get up, you idiots. Don't give me a reason and I won't have to hurt you. Deal?"

"Deal!" they cried in unison, leaping to their feet as if nothing at all had happened. "We're off to cause chaos elsewhere," they chirped before they spun around, one twin ducking the broom the other still had across his shoulder before it could strike him in the back of the head, and marched their way across the Common Room, joining the three Chasers who were in the process of wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. When they looked up and saw the twins approaching, all three burst out laughing once again.

#####

After the twins departed, Harleen spent a few more minutes chatting with Hermione before she decided to run up to her new dorm to change and take a quick shower before dinner. She'd noticed more than a few eyes following her progress and a fresh wave of hushed conversation spread throughout the room when she'd reached the top of the stairs without having them turn into a slide underneath her. To be fair, she couldn't entirely blame them. Even she had been slightly apprehensive just before her foot landed on the bottom step.

The dorm itself had been a strange mixture of surprise and exactly what she'd expected at the same time. She was surprised to find that the dorm looked almost exactly like the boy's dorm, save for the fact that each bed had a vanity with a mirror situated directly across from it against the far wall. As to what she'd expected… well, it was a bit neater than the dorm she'd been in before, and it definitely smelled better.

She quickly shimmied her way out of her Quidditch clothes next to the bed she identified as belonging to her and laid them across the foot of the bed. Dressed only in her bra and knickers, she opened the second compartment of her new trunk to face the results of a promise she had decided to make to herself.

Neville's Gran had gone to a not inconsiderable expense to provide a proper wardrobe for her, something she had never had before, and she was determined not to waste what she'd been given. The School Charter required all students to be in their proper uniform during class hours. Since she had no further classes that day she decided she was going to avail herself of her new wardrobe.

Once faced with the assortment of items tucked neatly into the wardrobe compartment of her trunk, however, she realized that she had a few immediate problems to tackle. First, having never owned new casual clothes before, she found herself faced with an almost overabundance of choice, yet no clue what _she_ wanted to wear. Living with Dudley's overly large castoffs, she'd never developed her own individual sense of style, nor did she have the first clue as to what she might actually like.

Which led to the second issue of knowing almost nothing about women's clothing in general. Easily a quarter of the items she had she wasn't even entirely certain she knew exactly how to put on to begin with.

Her third concern lay with what Augusta had been telling her at Madam Malkin's. As much as she hated it, she _was_ the Lady of her House, the future Head of House Potter, and she really should start dressing the part. Unfortunately she wasn't certain how to _do_ that. What fit a Lady of a House in such a casual setting as dinner in the Great Hall?

After nearly ten minutes spent staring into the wardrobe Harleen finally let out an exasperated sigh and decided to keep things simple. She reached out and grabbed two items, hesitating briefly over one of them before adding a change of undergarments to what she held and made her way to the door across the room that she assumed led to the showers.

Thirty minutes later saw her showered and changed and studying her reflection in the mirror over the sink, ignoring its commentary on her appearance. The black slacks she was comfortable with and they fit well instead of being too large as she was mostly used to with her old clothes. She'd _almost_ chosen a skirt but, despite her resolve, she just couldn't quite bring herself to wear one when it wasn't a requirement.

It was the top she'd chosen that was giving her the most pause. A vibrant emerald green in color, the scooped neckline showed a little more than a hint of cleavage and she couldn't decide if it was too much or not, as well as showing some of the scars that crossed her chest that she still had yet to conceal with the usual glamour since the goblet had stripped them away.

_Well,_ she thought, _no way to prove to any doubters that I'm really a girl quite like shoving _these_ things in their faces… figuratively speaking._

While the scars still gave her pause, she reminded herself, forcefully, of what Hermione had told her. She didn't _need_ to hide who she was or what she'd been through and she left her wand where it was, in the holster strapped to her forearm, resisting the urge to hide behind her glamour.

Decision made, she grabbed a school robe and made her way downstairs to meet Hermione, who made no comment on the scars visible above the neckline of her top, merely offering her a smile, before the two of them left for dinner. Harleen kept her face down, as to avoid seeing the looks she was sure were being cast in her direction until half way through the meal when she finally looked up, a frown on her face, and turned to Hermione.

"Hey, where's Ron?" she asked. "I just realized that I haven't seen him since Monday. He didn't even come visit me in the Hospital Wing, come to think of it."

"He was in class earlier, though he didn't sit near us and he slept through the whole thing," Hermione noted with clear disapproval, looking around the table as she spoke, in search of the missing red head.

"I heard that he caught a detention with Professor Snape," Neville spoke up from the seat across from Harleen. He'd given her a second look when the two girls sat down across from him, but thankfully hadn't commented on either the amount of skin she was showing, or the scars.

"How'd he manage that?" she blurted out. "We didn't even have Potions today!"

Neville shrugged. "Search me, just what I heard," he offered before turning his attention back to his food.

The two girls sighed, exchanging eerily similar exasperated looks.

"Well, nothing to be done about it, I guess," Harleen finally commented as she retrieved her box of potions from the pocket of the robes she'd worn over her clothes. Hermione said nothing, choosing to watch in silence as Harleen looked over the instructions again and carefully selected the correct potion. With that task completed and the box shrunk down and tucked into her pocket again, she turned back to her friend.

"So," she said. "Herbology and Potions yesterday. I know you picked up the assignments we were supposed to do, think you and Neville could explain to me what we missed?"

"Me?" Neville cut in in shock. "Why would you want _my_ help?"

"Because you're a friend, practically family since your Gran is my guardian, and you're also the best I know in Herbology, Neville," Harleen immediately responded. "You've got a natural talent for it and your help would be really appreciated. Some tips from Hermione with potions could help us both a lot," she added with a pleading look in Hermione's direction.

"Of course I'll help," she informed them, laughing at the look on Harleen's face. "I'm really surprised you're not better at Potions, actually, Neville. There are so many overlapping aspects with Herbology that I'd have thought you'd be better at it."

"That'd be because Snape makes him nervous and he ends up flustered in class."

"Professor Snape, Harleen," Hermione admonished, seemingly more out of habit than anything else as there was no heat to her words.

"No, he's not a professor and I refuse to call him that," Harleen disagreed, shaking her head firmly. "A professor is someone that teaches. Mister Snape doesn't teach us anything. He puts a recipe on the board and tells us to get to it. Has he ever explained how to prepare ingredients? Has he ever explained why certain ingredients react to each other in different ways? Has he ever actually taught us anything that we couldn't have learned better just by reading the book with no instructor at all?"

She shook her head again at the looks of dawning comprehension on her friend's faces, as well as some of the nearby students that were listening in. "No, he's not a professor. At most he's earned being called Potions Master, as he is that. He's the youngest person to ever gain a Mastery in the field so that much he's actually done, but that doesn't automatically make him a professor.

"Anyway, back to what I was saying. Potions Master Snape skulks around our classes making snide comments and offering insults and ridicule and he makes Neville nervous. Because he's nervous he makes mistakes, that's why he doesn't do better in class. I'm sure that if we practiced some potions without the old bat breathing down our necks, Neville would be a brilliant brewer."

After a bit of silence during which Hermione looked thoughtful and Neville simply gaped in astonishment, the witch at her side nodded her head.

"You're right. I hate to say it but you're right," she said, sighing despondently. "Neville, you really do understand Herbology so well, you _should_ be much better at Potions just because you know so much about the properties of the different ingredients. I'd be happy to help with potions and if you can offer some insight into Herbology, I'm pretty sure we could get both assignments finished before curfew without too much trouble."

With both girls regarding him questioningly, Neville easily caved, holding his hands up in surrender.

"If you're sure, I'd be happy to help, and happy for the help, too. There's no need to try to convince me," he said, though he looked a little nervous about the entire prospect.

"Hey, Harry?"

Harleen turned her head, looking down the table to find Katie sitting near the other Foxes as well as the twins.

"What's up, Katie?" she called.

"If you guys are planning a study session, think I could tag along? I could use a little help with Defense."

Harleen blinked in surprise and her head tilted slightly to one side as she regarded the older girl. "You're a year ahead of us in Defense," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you're the best in your year. I'm pretty sure you'd be able to offer up some thoughts at least, that might get me going in the right direction."

Harleen shared a look with Hermione and Neville, and when neither seemed against the idea she shrugged, turning her attention back to Katie.

"Fine by me," she said.

"Great," Katie called with a grin as she stood from the table. "Mind if I tell a few others about it?"

"Not at all, meet you all in the Library?"

"See you there."

Katie hurried from the Hall while Harleen, Neville, and Hermione stood and made their way toward Gryffindor tower to retrieve their bags. They had a short handful of hours before curfew and they were determined to get as much done as they could.

By the time they arrived in the Library, the study group had grown far beyond what Harleen had expected. Several tables were pushed together in the center of the room and around them sat all three chasers from Gryffindor as well as the twins. Dean Thomas and Seamus were there. Several Hufflepuffs from their year and even a couple of Ravenclaws that Harleen didn't immediately recognize filled some of the seats.

"Well," she murmured to her friends where they stood on either side of her, each as surprised as she was, "this should be interesting."

#####

'Interesting' had certainly been the word to use, Harleen reflected later that evening as she sat in the Common Room with Neville and Hermione. They had not been able to completely finish both assignments as Hermione had expected, not with so many there looking for help, or offering help in one subject or another. They _had_ managed complete outlines for both and the entire group left the table having made significant progress in their various assignments. All in all, it had been a successful evening.

Harleen had expected a lot of questions regarding her situation, but aside from a few confirming that it was okay to still call her 'Harry', there had been nothing.

"You know you don't have to wait with me," she tried.

Neville made a scoffing sound from his chair near the fireplace while Hermione merely sniffed and turned the page in her book.

"You said yourself that we're practically family," Neville explained. "I'm not going to let you sit here and deal with Ron alone."

"As if she'd be alone," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Though if he takes much longer to get here I'm ready to suggest we give up waiting for him and try tomorrow."

When they'd returned to the Common Room just before curfew, Harleen had informed the two that she intended to wait and talk to Ron. Both seemed less than pleased to hear that, but immediately insisted that they would wait with her. She protested their decision but her heart really wasn't in it. She couldn't deny that the support was nice.

Harleen really wasn't sure how to feel about Ronald Weasley. She'd clung to his friendship for a long time now, counting the future that had yet to be lived. But there were so many issues surrounding him that she couldn't ignore. His temper, jealousy, and inferiority complex were simply not things that she needed to deal with. He treated Hermione and just about anyone else not a Gryffindor terribly. Harleen remembered his commentary regarding the various girls in the school before the Yule Ball the first time around all too well and she shuddered to think how he might behave toward her. That was all even before he abandoned them during the Hunt.

He never came back, and not only did she not know why, she would now never know. She didn't feel that she could trust Ron. The fact that her lack of trust was partly for things the boy hadn't actually done yet, and might never do, made her feel terrible, but she couldn't shake how she felt.

Beside her on the sofa Hermione suddenly closed her book. "Show time," she muttered, drawing Harleen from her thoughts. She turned slightly to see the portrait closing and a weary looking Ron Weasley shuffling his way across the Common Room toward the stairs.

"Ron," Hermione called, catching the boy's attention. "Come sit? We need to talk to you."

Ron glared at her. "Done ignoring me for Potter?" he snapped and Hermione tensed but did not lash out at him.

"I haven't been ignoring you," she said calmly. "Come sit, please. It's important."

For a moment Harleen didn't think he would listen but then, grumbling under his breath, he stomped over and threw himself into the open chair across from the sofa and next to Neville. He glanced at the other boy for a moment before he turned his attention to Harleen, giving her a quick once over that had her skin crawling.

"Who're you?"

Mouth dropping open in shock she turned to look at an equally surprised Hermione.

"Harry still in the Hospital?" Ron asked when she didn't immediately respond.

"My name's Harleen," she said, turning back to Ron. "Harleen Potter."

Ron actually started at that, jerking in his seat as his attention swung back toward her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "There aren't any other Potters," he said. "Just the git that says he's my friend."

"Ron, this _is_ Harry," Hermione tried to explain.

"Harry is a bloke," he shot back. "Unless you're saying that he hid _those _from us all this time," he added with a gesture toward Harleen's chest.

"Oi! Watch it!" she snapped, pulling her robes closed in an attempt to shield herself from view.

Between Harleen, Hermione, and Neville they managed to explain what happened and the truth of her birth gender. By the end of their explanation the red head looked somewhere between gobsmacked and furious.

"I'm not sure how you haven't heard," Harleen finished. "The whole school knows by now but that's not important. I _didn't_ put my name in the goblet, Ron. I didn't do it, but I don't have the time or energy to try to convince you if you're not going to believe me. I have too much else going on right now to worry about your temper and your jealousies. I could really use my friends, and I could really use some help and support. So are we still friends or not?"

"Too worried about your upcoming interviews and photo ops to deal with your best mate, you mean?" he snarled, ears a violent red that was spreading into his cheeks. "Whatever else happened to you, I can't believe you would still lie to me about the tournament."

"And I can't believe that you would assume I'm lying!" she snapped at him. "You claim to be my friend but instead of believing me, instead of believing _in_ me, you accuse me of lying to you. What reason do I have to lie? What reason do I have to want to be in this bloody tournament?"

"Fame and fortune," he roared back. "You just can't help not being the center of attention."

"I _hate_ being famous! You saying that and thinking I would actually want any part of this stupid tournament just proves you don't know me at all. People have _died_ in this bloody thing! That's why it's only supposed to be for students that are of age."

Harleen realized she was standing, glaring at the red head in a blind fury.

"Don't you think I've had my fill of almost dying, Ronald Weasley? After the last three years at this damned nuthouse, do you think I was having fun all those times I came close to dying?"

"Everyone always said we got into adventures-"

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE, RON!"

Hermione's hand found her arm, pulling her back from where she'd stepped toward her former friend, hands balled into fists at her side.

"I don't want to die," she said again. "I want to have a life. I want to graduate. I want to get married one day. I want a family and a job. I want to not be worrying all the time that there's some lunatic out there plotting to kill me!

"You go on about how I always get everything. What do I have, Ron? What? I have a scar on my face that everyone in the wizarding world knows on sight, so I can't go anywhere without being harassed or stared at. I have a fortune sitting in a vault because my parents _died_ and left me alone. I have relatives that hate me and tried to beat any trace of magic out of me before I could even come to school here. They lied to me about who I was, who my parents were, how they died! They told me my parents were unemployed drunks that died in a car crash that my dad caused!

"You may not have as much money, you may not be as famous, but you have people that love you and care about you and worry that you're safe and healthy. I have to take potions for the next few months to repair the damage my relatives did because they never fed me enough! I grew up shoved in the cupboard under the stairs when they didn't want to deal with m-"

She broke off, her teeth snapping together as her mouth closed, face flushed and breath coming harsh and fast in her fury.

_Dammit!_

A flicker of a glance in Neville's direction showed the boy was pale and outraged in equal parts and she felt certain that she didn't even want to see how Hermione looked so she focused her attention back on Ron, carefully keeping her voice controlled and level as she continued speaking.

"If you actually believe that I would ever want to be a part of something like this damn tournament, and that I would _lie_ to my friends about it, after everything we've been through... then you were never actually my friend."

Gently she shook off Hermione's grip on her arm and walked unsteadily toward the stairs to the girl's dorms.

"Don't ever speak to me again, Ronald Bilius Weasley. I have nothing more to say to you."

Slowly her feet carried her up the stairs and behind her she could hear Neville and Hermione both tearing into Ron but she ignored it, keeping her focus in front of her until she reached her dorm and was able to slip inside.

In the dark she stripped down to her underwear and crawled into her bed, curling up under the blankets. With her back toward the door and the curtains around her bed drawn firmly shut, Harleen Potter did something that she hadn't done since she was six years old.

She cried herself to sleep.


	9. Confrontations and Surprises

**Author's notes: And here we are again gang with Chapter 09 of A Fair Life. I really enjoyed pieces of this chapter. We're coming down to the wire, the big explanation is coming up NEXT chapter and this one sets up us getting to that discussion as well as throwing in a few other things that should be lots of fun once we get there. Ten chapters just to get to the explanation for Hermione. Jeez. **

**Some of you might have noticed that at this point in the story not even a full week has passed by since chapter 02. I am happy to say that that kind of pace won't be staying around for long. Things are going to pick up and we'll be moving along through fourth year with a bit more speed soon enough. There has just been a lot of set up and stuff to get through before now so things have needed to progress without skipping over much time in story. **

**Disclaimer: I own my phone, my computer, and my motorcycle. That's about it.**

**Now, without any further delay, here is chapter 09 of A Fair Life. Please, enjoy.**

A Fair Life

Confrontations and Surprises

by,

Rtnwriter

Thursday morning, Harleen opened her eyes, slowly coming awake to a strangely empty feeling in her chest, one she'd only felt one other time before. After last night's argument with Ron, she was positive that her friendship with the lanky redhead was utterly shattered beyond any hope of repair. Despite her misgivings about him, it still hurt to think she'd completely lost the first friend her age that she'd ever had.

Sighing dejectedly, she pushed herself up to a sitting position in her bed and reached for the house robe that she found lying next to her. Shrugging into the garment to cover her nearly naked form before pulling aside her curtains and slipping out of bed, intent on a hot shower to help her wake up.

_Can I just have one calm day?_ she mentally pleaded. _Just one day where nothing crazy happens and no one yells at me? Please?_

"What in the bloody hell do you think _you're_ doing in here?"

Harleen sighed again, closing her eyes as if hoping that the owner of that voice would simply disappear if she didn't acknowledge her. Knowing that was unlikely to happen, and cursing the universe at large for ignoring her plea for a quiet day, she opened her eyes and turned to face a scowling Lavender Brown. The girl was wearing a robe similar to her own, arms crossed over her chest, anger pouring off her in waves, as she seemed to be trying to kill Harleen simply by the intense heat of her glare alone.

"I was sleeping," Harleen replied to the girl's question. "Now I'm thinking of going to take a shower. What does it matter to you?"

"How did you get in here, Potter" Lavender snapped.

Harleen frowned and glanced around the room, noting Parvati and Fay nearby, both girls sitting on the edge of their beds as if they'd just woken and watching the confrontation with wide eyes. The door to the showers swung open and Hermione stepped into the room, already dressed for the day, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail and she came to an abrupt stop as her gaze landed on the scene before her.

"Uh… I walked up the stairs?" Harleen finally said, turning her attention back to Lavender.

"How did you trick them?" Lavender demanded, taking a threatening step closer and Harleen realized belatedly that the blond was holding her wand in one tightly clenched fist.

Bewildered and off balance, Harleen backed up a step. "Trick who? What are you...?"

"The stairs, Potter! How did you trick the stairs to let you up here?"

"What are you talking about, Lavender?" Hermione cut in, moving over to stand near them. "Why would Harleen need to trick the stairs?"

"How else would _Harry_ get up here?" Lavender spat. "Get out of here, Potter! Go back to your dorm before I get McGonagall!"

"Professor McGonagall is the one that told me that this _was_ my dorm," Harleen said quietly, almost like she was talking to herself.

Lavender's eyes narrowed and she started to take another step forward when Hermione suddenly put herself between the two of them. Harleen jerked back, startled by her friend's sudden interjection between her and Lavender, as well as the fact that Hermione had her own wand in hand and pointed at the irate blond in front of her.

"You don't belong here, Potter! This is the girl's dorm!"

Harleen looked down at her chest for a moment then turned her gaze back to Lavender. "I- I _am_ a girl," she said.

"Hippogriff shite! You might look like a girl right now but I'm not buying it. You're a boy, you've always been a boy, and just like every other boy, you're nothing more than a perverted little freak! I'm not sharing a dorm with someone that'll be trying to peep on me while I'm changing or in the shower, so get your arse out of here!"

It was like a punch to the gut. Harleen, shocked by the hate and venom dripping from the usually bubbly blond's voice, stumbled back another step and felt the stone wall of the dorm against her back.

_Freak!_

She couldn't say the thought hadn't occurred to her. She'd been denying the possibility, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that kept repeating the Dursleys' favorite slur for her. A freak. When she'd had no explanation for her accidental magic as a child and the strange things that happened around her, she'd almost believed them. She was a freak. Then she found out about magic and for a brief moment, she'd thought she might not be as different as her relatives thought.

She would find people like her. Coming into the wizarding world had dashed the hope that she could be normal. She was famous. Known the world over. She was a parselmouth. Now, she was a boy that had become a girl. She really was nothing more than-

"- Harry!"

A hand on her cheek and the sound of her name in her ears drew her from the spiraling depths of her thoughts to find herself sitting on the floor, a stinging pain radiating from her back where it had scraped against the rough stones behind her. Her heart was racing, she couldn't seem to catch her breath, and it felt as if something heavy sat on her chest, constricting her lungs.

"Harleen, you need to try to slow your breathing. You're having a panic attack. Slow, deep breaths. Come on…"

The voice, that she recognized as Hermione's continued a litany of soothing words and calming advice and slowly, as she did her best to follow that advice, the pressure on her chest began to ease, her heart rate began to slow, and she found herself able to take longer, more even breaths.

A loud bang echoed through the room as the door flew open and their Head of House suddenly filled the doorway, a thunderous expression on her face as her strident tones rang out. "Just what in Godric's name is going on in here?"

Harleen was finally able to take in the room around her again and found her eyes practically bulging out at the scene before her. Parvati and Fay were both standing as far from the other girls in the room as they could get, with Harleen and Hermione against the wall furthest from the door. In the very center of the room stood Lavender, though much changed from the last view Harleen had of her.

The girl was yelling, that much was evident by the way her mouth kept opening and closing, but no sound escaped, probably the result of a silencing charm. Her skin cycled through a dizzying mix of colors. One moment bright orange with silver stripes and the next green with pink polka dots dancing across every bit of exposed skin. Her slippers were shredded from where her feet had morphed into cloven hooves, a forked tongue darted out of her mouth now and then as she ranted in silence and her clawed hands were helping to support her head which was now weighed down by a massive pair of ram's horns.

"Miss Granger, would you care to explain to me what has happened to Miss Brown?" Professor McGonagall asked in a dangerous tone.

Harleen and Hermione exchanged a look before, surprising herself, Harleen burst into tears.

#####

Minerva McGonagall let out a long breath and sat back in the chair behind her desk, eyeing the two girls in front of her critically. In a school that taught magic to children, magic that regularly laughed and thumbed its nose at the laws of physics, the only hard rule was to expect the unexpected. Despite this well learned expectation, Minerva felt that there were simply some things that she _could_ count on to be immutable constants of life.

Things like 'water is wet', or 'the Sun always rises in the East', 'ice is cold', 'fire is hot', 'Hermione Granger is a level headed witch who would _never_ lash out at someone in anger'.

It was mildly disconcerting for the stern educator to be faced with a previously unknown exception to one of these closely held beliefs. Lavender Brown had been sent to the Hospital Wing, barely recognizable as the cheerful and bubbly witch that she usually was. The mixture of charms, hexes, and human transfiguration used on the girl would have been impressive were it not for the fact that it was one of her lions that was attacked, and another that had done the attacking.

As an educator and disciplinarian, she could not admit to being impressed in any way, despite the fact that it was a fourth year student using a branch of magic that they wouldn't even begin studying in class until sixth year!

"So, Miss Brown was upset that Miss Potter slept the night in the girl's dorm?" she asked for clarification of the story she was being told.

"That's what I was able to gather, Professor," Hermione agreed quietly, her hands balled into fists on her thighs. "She kept asking how Harleen was able to trick the stairs to let a boy up into the dorm. She was extremely hostile and insulting and something she said caused Harleen to have a panic attack. I… I used my wand but I wasn't really paying much attention, I was more worried about Harleen."

Minerva nodded. "Yes, that much I was able to piece together from speaking to Miss Brown, once her tongue was returned to normal," she said with a stern frown in Hermione's direction that had the girl shrinking in on herself in her seat. "It is also clear that she does not believe that Miss Potter is truly female. She appears to view the whole thing as an elaborate ruse by a boy to attempt to take advantage of the girls in the dorms."

"I would never do something like that, Professor!"

"I believe you, Miss Potter," she said gently to the disheveled and despondent looking girl. "I have always considered you to be a person with strong morals, and you have never given me any reason to doubt you. This situation does present several issues that must be addressed however."

"What kind of issues?" Harleen asked, leaning, almost unconsciously, toward Hermione in the chair beside her. Whether she was doing so to offer protection for the other girl, or seeking comfort for herself, Minerva couldn't really say.

"First, while I commend you, Miss Granger, for defending your friend, I cannot allow your using magic against another student go without punishment." She paused as Hermione's face paled considerably. "I believe that thirty points from Gryffindor as well as a detention this evening with me, immediately following dinner should suffice."

Hermione and Harleen both let out a relieved sigh at the relatively light punishment.

"Second," Minerva stated. "Miss Brown has made it clear that she is unwilling to share a dorm with Miss Potter. I cannot punish a person for how they feel, as long as she makes no further attacks against Miss Potter's person… that leaves us in a slight quandary as to how to handle the situation."

Both girls were silent for a few moments.

"I… I could go back to the boy's dor-"

"Absolutely not, Miss Potter!" Minerva barked out, stunned by the very suggestion of such a thing. "A young woman sharing living space with multiple teen boys? Why, the very idea is outrageous."

"Not like I'd be sleeping with any of them," Harleen tried to argue. "Beside, I've already been sharing a living space with them for three years now."

"While your body was male," Minerva pointed out. "Miss Potter, your new status precludes you from acting as you used to. Even if nothing untoward went on, if you returned to your old dorm, rumors would undoubtedly crop up and your reputation would be tainted."

"My repu… are you kidding me?" Harleen burst out. "This is absolutely ridiculous, who cares about my reputation?"

"It's pretty common, Harleen," Hermione cut in. "Even if you don't care, how people perceive you, what they think of you, it'll all color how they treat you. If people think you have a reputation for a certain kind of behavior… it would make the rest of your life more difficult in ways you don't want to have to deal with."

Harleen growled under her breath before turning her attention to Minerva. "Do you have any suggestions?" she bit out.

"Two immediately come to mind, Miss Potter. Both, however, have issues with them being implemented. First, we could give you your own private quarters, both as a champion and as a means to avoid further confrontation with Miss Brown."

The girls exchanged a look. "That actually sounds like a really good idea, Professor," Harleen mused. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I would think that having your own quarters would put a rift between you and the rest of the House. You would be apart from them, no longer seen as one of the House if you lived separately. I feel that it would be better for you to remain in the Tower so that you do not drift apart from your Housemates."

"That makes sense, Harleen," Hermione murmured. "We _still_ need to take the temperature of the rest of the Tower and see where they land on the two major issues." At Harleen's questioning look, she clarified her meaning. "The fact that you didn't put your name in the goblet and the fact that you're not the same gender that you were last week. Obviously, we've seen different parts of the spectrum now. The Quidditch team seem to be behind you all the way. Ron still doesn't believe you about the tournament but didn't seem to much care that you're a girl, and Lavender… well…"

Harleen grimaced during the explanation but eventually let out a long sigh and nodded. "Professor? Can we set that idea aside but possibly revisit it if living in the Tower becomes a hostile environment?"

Minerva considered that for a moment before nodding her head. "That would be acceptable. Which leads us to our second option. There is a second dormitory directly across from the one you girls currently occupy. We could open that dorm and allow you to move in there, along with any of the other girls that may wish to do so."

Harleen winced at that, telling Minerva that the girl had already spotted the issue.

"With that idea, anyone willing to move into the new dorm would basically be declaring a side between me and Lavender. She would probably view it as a betrayal and that could raise tensions within the Tower."

"Well spotted, Miss Potter, that is precisely the concern."

"I don't really see that we have a great many options. We'll have to go with the dorm and hope that things can be kept civil," Hermione stated and Harleen turned to face her.

"We?" she asked.

"If you honestly think that I won't be moving into the new dorm with you then you obviously don't know me half as well as I thought you did," Hermione sniffed disdainfully.

Harleen shrugged her shoulders. "W-well… I didn't want to make any assumptions…"

"I've stood by you through some pretty hair raising things already, Harleen. I'm not about to abandon you over something as simple as switching dorms."

Minerva quietly cleared her throat, drawing the girls' attention back to her. "I shall have the dorm prepared and your trunks will be moved before lunch today." She paused, studying the two of them carefully before she turned her attention to Hermione. "Miss Granger, if you would head out? I would like to speak to Miss Potter alone. Breakfast is being served and you have plenty of time to eat before my class."

She appeared reluctant to do so, but eventually, Hermione stood and left the room, her bag thrown over one shoulder and a concerned look in her eye as she glanced back at her friend just before the door closed. A quick call to one of the Hogwarts house elves had both student and professor supplied with a goblet of pumpkin juice as well as a plate piled high with a full English breakfast.

"I feel that this discussion may just take a bit of time and it wouldn't do for either of us to miss breakfast," she said by way of explanation at the questioning look the girl gave her. "Poppy would have my head if I caused you to miss a meal," she added with a rare grin.

Harleen smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease, it seemed, and the two began eating. Minerva used the first few minutes to organize her thoughts, making sure to list in her mind the various points that she wanted to touch on during their discussion before she started.

"Miss Potter, I owe you an apology," she started, causing the girl to look up from her plate in confusion.

"What for, Professor?"

"I have been thinking over the last few days, contemplating my actions over the last three years, and more than that beside. I've realized that I have consistently failed you at almost every turn since the night that your parents died."

Harleen opened her mouth, her expression stating clearly that she intended to protest, but Minerva raised one hand, gesturing for her to wait.

"It's true," she said. "The night you were left at your relatives' home… I spent the entire day observing them in my animagus form and I know that they were terrible people. But I did nothing to stop the Headmaster from leaving you there beside a verbal protest. Then I didn't check on you even once over the years. I did nothing where I should have acted.

"Then you returned to us, and I have continued to fail you ever since you stepped foot in this school. I did nothing to interfere with Severus and his poor treatment of you. I didn't listen when you and your friends tried to warn me about the danger to the Stone in your first year. I did nothing to curb the rumors in your second year, that Heir of Slytherin nonsense. As Professors, the entire staff failed to protect our students and it fell to a twelve-year-old child to end the situation that year, and you very nearly lost your life because of it.

"Last year… it never once occurred to you to come to me, did it?" she asked, sighing when Harleen winced and avoided her eyes. "I didn't think so. I don't blame you, I have given you little reason to think that you _could_ come to me. I have failed, not only you, but my House and this entire school for some time now; and I would like to thank you, Miss Potter, for bringing my failures to light. I now am presented with the opportunity to improve and to do better than I have in the past. I _want_ my students, regardless of their House, to feel that they can come to me with their problems. I will also be speaking to the other Professors and I will do my best to impress upon them the need for us _all _to do better."

The girl before her looked shocked when she finished, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open slightly for a moment before she suddenly shook herself, her mouth snapping closed.

"W-well… um… you're welcome?" It came out as more of a question than anything else, but Minerva accepted the sentiment with a quiet nod of her head.

Minerva pushed aside her empty plate and leaned forward in her seat, her hands clasped together on the table in front of her. "Take your potions, Miss Potter, and we'll move on to a… well, a rather more delicate matter."

Harleen nodded and took out the box of potions from the inside pocket of her robes, expanding it as Minerva continued speaking. "Miss Brown… from what I was able to gather in speaking to her while you showered and dressed this morning… it appears that her primary concern in sharing a dorm with you is that she is uncomfortable sharing a space with someone that she thinks might look at her in a… less than platonic manner. Now, while I do not believe that you would ever use your situation to take advantage of any of the other girls, I fear I must ask if there is any truth to Miss Brown's concerns?"

Harleen squirmed in her seat, her cheeks flushing a brilliant red as her eyes darted about and her fingers plucked nervously at the potions vials in the box in front of her. "Uh… i-if you're asking if I'm at-attracted to girls… well… well, I'd have to say yes," she admitted meekly. "But I swear, I would never-"

"I have already said that I believe you, Miss Potter, let us let that lie. This does present a small problem however. The boys and girls dorms are separate in order to help discourage any… explorations amongst the students, however there is no such consideration for students of the same gender." She fell silent, thinking carefully for several seconds as Harleen selected the proper potion from her box.

"Are you quite certain of your… interests?" she asked. "Is it at all possible that once you have spent more time being female again that your tastes might change?"

Harleen shook her head vehemently. "No, Professor. Really, I have no interest in men at all. In fact… in fact there's a girl I _am _interested in, I just… I haven't decided how to approach her quite yet."

_Which falls directly in line with what I've observed since Monday evening,_ she thought as she hummed wordlessly under her breath for a moment. "Well, if you are quite certain, I can certainly see the attraction, though I do not recommend that you keep Miss Granger waiting for long."

Harleen nearly spat the potion she'd just poured into her mouth across the desk, barely managing to swallow the foul tasting concoction before gasping out, "I never said anything about Hermione!"

"Oh, please," Minerva said with a scowl. "You are not nearly as subtle as you seem to think you are," she added in a dry tone. "I have long suspected that the two of you would make an excellent couple, and since your change it has only become clearer than ever that the two of you are rather drawn to one another. I admit that I wasn't entirely certain that wasn't just a result of the uncommonly close friendship that the two of you share, but I can see now there is much more there than simple friendship between you."

She leaned back in her seat and eyed the gaping girl in front of her. "I feel that I should warn you. Wizarding society has never shown itself to be kind to those who are… different. Your social status would also put you and Miss Granger under a great deal of scrutiny should the two of you be public with your relationship. You should both be sure that you are ready to deal with the consequences before anyone else finds out."

"We don't exactly _have_ a relationship, Professor," Harleen pointed out. "At least, not yet; but I understand your point."

"Something for the two of you to discuss in the future."

"We will."

"Once you have reached a consensus as to the status of your relationship, can I trust that nothing untoward will be going on in the dorms?"

Minerva hid a smirk as, right on cue, the girl's cheeks reddened and she stammered out a slew of assurances to her Head of House. She was tempted to push, to tease the girl just a bit, but, at the last second, she thought better of it, and simply let Harleen recover her composure.

By the time the girl's complexion had returned to something approaching her normal skin tone, Minerva was ready to continue. "The last thing that I wish to bring up is in regards to what you said to the Headmaster yesterday," she began. "I am curious about this war you mentioned as well as the role you seem to feel that you will play in it."

Harleen let out a long breath, sitting up as tall in her seat as her diminutive stature would allow, and fixed her Head of House with a steady gaze. "It shouldn't be a secret from the staff that Voldemort isn't dead," Harleen started, ignoring the way Minerva couldn't help a wince at the name, despite the many times she'd heard Dumbledore use it. "If it is, then you'll really want to question the Headmaster on that since the last two incidents involving _him _happened here at school in my first and second years."

She paused for a moment, her head tilting to one side slightly in thought. "Well… admittedly the second one had nothing to do with him _now_, but the version of him from fifty years ago, so I guess that's not entirely fair… still… talk to Dumbledore."

She straightened up again. "Personally, I'm not against cooperating with the Headmaster, I just need to see some effort from him that he's not going to continue acting as he always has in trying to control me and my life. That isn't his place and I won't put up with it any longer. That being said, I don't want him knowing how much I know, or how I know it. I'll tell you what I can if he doesn't come clean with you himself, but for right now, I think I need to play things a little close to the vest. There's a bit of time yet."

Minerva met a calm, green eyed stare, such an abrupt shift from the nervous and embarrassed teen she'd been speaking to before that point, and couldn't help but wonder over the changes she'd observed in her student's behavior, changes that couldn't entirely be accounted for by her physical transformation.

Eventually she nodded her head. "I will do that, Miss Potter." She pulled open a drawer in her desk and retrieved a small stack of parchment that she handed over. "The introductory student packet that we give to our muggle born and raised students," she explained at the questioning look on the girls face. "I do believe it is far past time that you should have this."

"Thank you, I'll be sure to read through it," Harleen said as she tucked the information into her bag where it sat on the floor next to her chair.

With her main points covered, Minerva ushered the teen from her office and the two began to make their way through the halls towards the Transfiguration classroom.

_Something is very different about you, Miss Potter,_ Minerva thought as she walked alongside the young witch, eyeing the pensive seeming girl curiously. _Something is different, and you're trying to hide just how different you are. I may not know you as well as Miss Granger, but the adults in your life have failed you far too much, young lady. Don't think that I won't figure out what you're hiding, if for no other reason than so that I can offer the support you've been missing all these years._

#####

After the initial chaos that was Thursday morning, Harleen was relieved to find that the rest of the day actually went rather well. The double length Transfiguration class that morning meant her mind was kept too occupied to stress over the various worries and concerns plaguing her. Yes, Harleen had already had this lesson in her previous life, but she was attempting to focus more on the theory this time around than she had in the past and that made for a far more challenging lesson.

Hermione had been impressed, even pleased, with the change in her focus, and wasn't even annoyed when Harleen was the first in the class to successfully change her guinea pig into a guinea fowl. The day passed quickly, despite the looks that she continued to receive from the majority of the other students, as well as the heated glares coming from Ron and Lavender, once the other witch was released from the Hospital Wing and was able to rejoin their lessons.

Harleen counted herself lucky that they had Transfiguration and Charms that day. While both classes were with the Slytherins, Malfoy and his cronies didn't cause any trouble in either of those courses. She knew it wouldn't be the same once their next Potions lesson came around, but she hoped that Professor McGonagall had made good on her threat to curb Snape and decided to wait and see what happened. A confrontation with the pale boy was coming, she knew, she just wasn't entirely sure how she was going to deal with him when it happened.

Right after lunch, Professor McGonagall showed her and Hermione their new dorm. It was identical in design and decoration to the previous dorm, only a mirror image of it. Hermione thought it would take her a little getting used to with things on the opposite side of where she was used to them being, but insisted that being away from Lavender and Parvati would make it worth the little confusion she would need to deal with while she adjusted to the new living arrangements.

Charms class that afternoon proceeded much like Transfiguration had, with much praise from a delighted Professor Flitwick over her improved wand work. Neville spent most of the class sitting with Harleen and Hermione, flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment as Flitwick heaped unaccustomed praise on the boy over his own phenomenal improvements in the class, now that he had a wand that responded to him properly. Neville was so thrilled with his new wand that during his exuberant thanks after class Harleen was worried for a moment that the boy might try to kiss her.

All in all, by the time Harleen crawled into her bed that evening, she was pleased that a day that had started out on such a horrid note had actually ended rather well. She fell asleep with a small smile on her face, very much looking forward to the next day, and the surprise she had in store for her best friend.

#####

"You really don't have to walk me to class, Harleen," Hermione commented to the girl beside her as the two said goodbye to Neville and left the Great Hall on Friday morning.

"I know, but I want to," Harleen chirped back. The girl was in a surprisingly chipper mood and Hermione couldn't help but find herself feeling a touch suspicious of her friends behaviour.

She was practically bouncing with each step and the small smile on her face grew broader the closer they got to the Arithmancy classroom.

"Well, class is about to start," Hermione said once they reached the door to her class.

"Have fun and learn lots," Harleen responded, grinning so widely that Hermione was honestly worried the girl's face was going to start hurting.

"I'll see you later," Hermione told her, still uncertain over her behavior, before she pushed open the door and stepped into class, moving immediately to her preferred seat in the front row. Sitting down next to Susan Bones, she placed her bag beside her desk and started pulling out her supplies, carefully arranging them before her on the desk's surface.

"All right, let's settle down, everyone," Professor Vector called as she came into the class and moved to stand near her desk at the front of the room. "I understand that everyone has been all atwitter over recent events but I will have all of your complete focus."

The professor set down a stack parchment that she'd been carrying on her desk as she spoke. I have the results of your last quiz here and I have to say that I'm very pleased with how everyone did."

Hermione couldn't help a small smile over Professor Vector's words. She knew they were intended for the class as a whole, but that didn't stop her from feeling a touch of pride over her performance in her classes.

"Miss Potter. I'd like to welcome you to my class and I'll have your quiz graded for you by tomorrow. From what I could see at a glance, though, I think you'll do quite well in this course."

_What?_ Hermione thought with a frown until another voice spoke up and her head whipped around toward the speaker.

"That's fine, Professor, I understand I'm coming in late to the party," Harleen said from her seat at the desk immediately to Hermione's left. "Thank you again, for giving me the opportunity."

"Well, I _did_ test 'Harry' Potter on Monday, not 'Harleen' Potter. But you passed the assessment so you have earned your place in this course. Don't let me, or Professor McGonagall, down."

After a stern glare that didn't quite match up to one their Head of House could have produced, Professor Vector waved her wand, sending the stack of quizzes on her desk whipping through the air, each to land on the proper student's desk before she launched into her lecture for the day.

Hermione realized that her mouth was hanging open as she stared at her friend in shock and she made a conscious effort to carefully close her mouth without snapping her teeth together, her parents would have lectured her for at least twenty minutes if she'd done something like that.

"Harleen!" she hissed. "What are you doing here?"

Harleen's response was to wink, a mischievous grin in place on her lips and mouth 'later' before she turned her attention back to the lecture, leaving Hermione to struggle to pay attention even as her mind spun in a dizzying whirl.

Later, she would be mortified to realize that she'd been so shocked that she actually hadn't heard most of the lesson that day and it was only Harleen's notes that would help her catch up to what she'd missed in her surprise over the other girl's presence.

Once the lesson was over and they were dismissed from class Hermione was one of the first ones out the door, practically dragging Harleen behind her as she went. Just down the hall from her Ancient Runes class, Hermione opened the door to an empty classroom and practically shoved Harleen inside.

"Okay, start talking," Hermione demanded. "What is going on with you, Harry?"

Harleen stood near the teacher's desk and slowly set her bag down on it's dusty surface.

"I'm sorry," she said in a low, despondent tone that actually pained Hermione to hear. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to calm as best she could as she slowly let herself sink into one of the student desks near the front of the room. "I'm not upset," she said.

Harleen gave her a pointed look and she sighed.

"Okay, yes I'm upset, but I'm not angry. Not with you. I'm confused and I'm worried. So much has happened in the last few days and a lot of things are going to continue to happen. It seems like, this tournament, whoever put your name in the goblet, that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg from what I can see, and I'm scared. I'm scared for you and for what's going to happen. I'm scared that you haven't been acting like yourself. I don't know what's really happened to you. What's _still_ happening, and I don't know how to help. Please, could you just explain this to me?"

Harleen leaned against the teacher's desk. "Remember on Monday when I told Ron that I was rethinking my academics?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, this is what I was doing. I talked to Professor McGonagall and dropped Divination, and then tested into the fourth year Arithmancy _and_ Ancient Runes courses."

"Why? And why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked, a little hurt at being excluded.

Harleen shrugged, her eyes dropping to study her shoes. "Divination is useless unless you're actually a Seer, and I was tired of having my death predicted in every class," she muttered. "Also, from everything I've heard, and from some things I've learned recently, my mum and dad were both great students. I… well, I didn't think they'd be happy with how I've been approaching school. I want to feel like they'd be proud of me and… honestly, I wanted _you_ to be proud of me, too. So, I decided I needed to try harder.

"As for why I didn't tell you… I wanted it to be a surprise." Nervously, her fingers toyed with the fabric of her skirt, her eyes still directed away from the witch across from her. "I guess that wasn't a very good idea," she muttered.

Apparently finished with her explanation, Harleen fell silent.

_You've spent three years telling her to take her studies more seriously and when she finally does the first thing you do is jump down her throat about it?_ Hermione thought as a pained grimace twisted her features. _What the hell is wrong with you?_

"Harleen…" Hermione sighed and pushed herself from her seat, moving a few steps closer to the other girl. "Harleen, I'm sorry. I've been on your case for years to take school more seriously… I _was_ surprised, and it really is a good surprise, I just didn't react well. I didn't mean to attack you like that."

While she spoke, Harleen had lifted her head, and by the time she finished the other girl was smiling softly.

"Well, to be fair I know how much you dislike surprises. I just thought a good surprise might make up for that a bit."

"It _is_ a good surprise," Hermione insisted. "Really it is. I'm thrilled that you're taking your studies more seriously. I've always known that you could do so much more than you have been. You're much smarter than you let on. I think… honestly I think there's just been so much changing in the last few days that I was just at my wits end."

Harleen seemed to be considering what Hermione had just told her carefully, her brow furrowed in thought for several long moments before she blew out a long breath, her eyes moving to meet her friend's gaze.

"It's driving you spare, not having the answers to all your questions, isn't it?"

"You have _no_ idea!" Hermione burst out. "Harleen, I've been very patient, but I'm going to burst if I don't get some answers soon!"

Hermione had closed the last few feet between them as she spoke, both hands fisting into the front of Harleen's robes as she practically shook the other girl in her frustration and exasperation. Harleen burst out laughing even as Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I'm sorry," she said between chuckles. "I'm sorry, it's not funny and I'm not really laughing _at_ you, but you getting so worked up _is_ a little amusing."

"Harleen!" Hermione growled. "I'm about two inches away from looking up the recipe to veritaserum! I think I've earned a few answers."

A gentle touch against her cheek snapped Hermione out of her fervor as she realized, belatedly, just how close the two of them were to each other and a sudden bout of nerves struck her. Her grip on Harleen's robes loosened, though she made no move to back away from the girl she was practically pinning to the desk behind her.

"I owe you more than a few answers," Harleen admitted softly, "and I know I keep saying 'later', but I hope you know that I'm not trying to get out of talking to you. Right now… I've just got a lot going on and…" She trailed off, her fingers gently stroking Hermione's cheek, almost absently.

"I hate to say it, but I haven't been entirely honest since Monday morning in the Common Room."

"W-what do you mean?" Hermione stammered.

"I've been very careful not to lie to you," Harleen hastened to say at the hurt expression that stole over Hermione's features. "I never want to lie to you, but I haven't exactly told the entire truth either."

"So tell me," Hermione pleaded even as Harleen gently pushed her back, giving the smaller girl room to straighten up.

"I can't. Not right now."

Hermione frowned, opening her mouth to argue when Harleen kept talking.

"It's too long a story for right now and we have to get to class. I promise, I _haven't _been trying to get out of talking to you about all this, Hermione. Really. I haven't. I'm just… it's such a strange story, I'm worried you'll think I'm crazy."

"I won't think that," Hermione insisted, warring with her desire for answers as it came into direct conflict with her need to be in class where she was supposed to be.

Harleen snorted. "If it hadn't happened to me, _I'd _think I was crazy." She turned and picked up her bag off of the desk. "I'm not actually a hundred percent certain that I'm _not_ crazy anyway. Either way, tomorrow. I promise you, tomorrow you'll get all the answers that I can safely give you."

"You swear?" Hermione pushed, a desperate note creeping into her voice despite her best efforts to hide it.

Harleen nodded. "I do. Keep in mind, there are some things I can't say, but I promise I won't lie to you. If I need to, I'll tell you if I can't explain something."

Hermione didn't particularly like the sound of that, but resigned herself to accepting it as unavoidable, for now.

#####

_Is it tomorrow yet?_ Hermione wondered as she lay in her bed later that night, restless and completely unable to get to sleep. A quick check of the time told her that, while yes it _was_ technically tomorrow, she didn't think that Harleen would appreciate being woken up at a quarter past one in the morning just to answer her questions. She turned onto her side, groaning quietly in frustration as she stared at Harleen's bed, just visible through a small gap in her own bed hangings.

It wasn't just her anxiousness that was keeping her up. She'd had similar problems the night before, and had similar problems the first few days she returned home from school each summer. With only her and Harleen in the new dorm, it was much quieter than usual and she'd long gotten used to the sounds of other people in the dorm with her. Lavender's quiet snoring was absent, as was Parvati's humorous tendency to speak in Hindi in her sleep. It always took her a bit to adjust to her bedroom at home being so quiet before she would be able to get a full night's sleep.

"Nn…"

Hermione blinked, surprised at the sound that suddenly floated through the room and she slowly sat up in her bed, pushing aside the hangings to give her a better view of the bed beside her's.

"No… No!"

Later, Hermione would have no memory of leaving her own bed, or approaching her friend's, just the memory of yanking aside the hangings to the sight of Harleen twisting and turning beneath her tangled bed covers, her hair sticking to her forehead and neck by way of a layer of sweat as a pained sounding groan escaped the other girl, her eyes clenched tightly shut.

"Harleen," she murmured, reaching out to shake the other girl's shoulder. "Harleen, wake up."

"No! Leave… leave her alone!"

"Harleen!" Hermione tried again, louder.

"Her… Hermione… leave her…"

Muttering gave way to a loud scream and Hermione shook away the shock at hearing her own name and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to grasp both of Harleen's shoulders as she shook the girl with a bit more force.

"Harleen, it's just a nightmare. Wake up!"

At her shout, bright green eyes snapped open, staring into her own cinnamon irises with a dazed look of incomprehension for a moment before clarity snapped into place and Hermione let out a startled 'eep!' as she found herself being grabbed and yanked into a tight embrace.

Harleen trembled beneath her, her entire body shaking as some great emotional turmoil rippled through her. Despite being half smothered against the pillow Hermione did her best to soothe the girl, whispering calming words and letting her hands gently rub whatever portion of her friend she could reach. She caressed Harleen's shoulder, wiped her hair away from her face, and gently stroked her cheek.

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered, turning her head so that she was speaking into the smaller girl's neck. "Everything is fine, Harleen. You're safe."

Harleen shuddered again, her arms tightening around Hermione's middle as she shook her head minutely.

"Nothing is really safe," she muttered, still sounding a bit dazed. "You aren't safe."

"We're both safe enough here. I know you'd do everything you could to protect me and I'll always do my best to protect you. We'll keep each other safe, yeah?"

Nearly a minute passed before Harleen let out a shuddering breath and she nodded.

"Yeah… yeah we will," she murmured. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you u-"

"I was already awake," Hermione interrupted. "Haven't been able to get to sleep yet actually."

Harleen's grip on her loosened and Hermione was able to sit up, though not so far that she wasn't still half lying across her friend.

"Why not?" she asked, a concerned expression flitting across her face. "What time is it anyway?"

Her right arm came away from Hermione's body and a loud click sounded as she flicked her wrist, her wand shooting out of the sleeve of her pajama top and into her hand. A quick wave showed the time floating in front of them.

1:32 a.m.

"You wear your wand holster to bed?" Hermione couldn't help but ask, arching one brow in surprise at the other girl.

Harleen's cheeks darkened in the dim light given off by the floating numbers and she quickly vanished them with another wave of her wand. A second later the wand shot back up her sleeve with a second click.

"Habit," she muttered. "I don't like letting my wand be too far away."

_When would she have developed a habit like that?_ Hermione wondered, even as she thought of her own wand where it was lying in its holster on her nightstand on the other side of her bed.

She banished that thought and pushed herself up into a fully sitting position. A quick look showed that Harleen's top was plastered to her body with sweat and the girl was starting to shiver as the damp material cooled in the evening air.

"Why don't you go clean up and change into something warmer?" she suggested. Harleen nodded and silently slipped out of her bed. Change of nightclothes in hand, she disappeared into the bathroom while Hermione considered the bed itself.

A moment later she looked up from the bed and spoke quietly to the empty room, "Dobby?"

With a muted crack, the eccentrically dressed elf appeared on the floor near her, staring up questioningly at her.

"Missy Miney calls for Dobby?" he squeaked out.

"Yes, Dobby, thank you so much for coming and I'm sorry if I woke you," she said, smiling softly at him.

"Not at all, Missy Miney. House elves is not needing much sleep, is a part of our magic."

That was certainly a relief to Hermione. She needed some help, but she didn't want to deprive the little guy of his rest. "I was wondering if you could get me some clean sheets and blankets? I'd like to change Harleen's bed for her. I _would_ just use a cleaning charm but it's not quite the same as fresh sheets."

Dobby hopped up and down a couple of times, almost violently shaking his head. "Oh, no," he exclaimed, "Missy Miney should not be doing elf work. Dobby cans be doing it."

"No, Dobby. It's late and I don't want you to have to-"

Before she could finish speaking, Dobby snapped his fingers and the smell of freshly laundered linens suddenly reached her nose. Turning toward the bed, she was only slightly surprised to see that the sheets and blankets were perfectly arranged instead of the disheveled mess that they'd been in before and there even appeared to be new pillows on the bed as well.

"Is being no trouble, Missy Miney," Dobby told her. "Dobby is being happy to help the Great Harry Potter and her Missy Miney. Just call for Dobby if you be needing anything." With that he offered her a small smile and snapped his long fingers again, disappearing with another crack, leaving her alone in the darkened dorm.

Hermione huffed, slightly frustrated that Dobby hadn't let her do the work herself, but she couldn't deny that he'd certainly made it a very simple endeavour. After spending nearly a minute practically scowling at the perfectly made bed, she sighed and went about turning down the blankets and the top sheet.

When Harleen returned, wearing a clean nightgown, Hermione was sitting on the edge of her own bed, her own wand holster now strapped to her arm. She stood as the other girl came into the room and gestured to the bed with one hand.

"Lay down," she practically ordered the girl.

Harleen arched one brow, giving her a quizzical look, but silently complied with the command, climbing up into the large bed and burrowing her way down beneath her blankets. She stiffened in surprise, and perhaps a bit of fear, Hermione thought, when the bushy haired witch suddenly climbed into the bed and sat up against the headboard next to her friend.

"Hermione?" Harleen asked in a hesitant tone.

"Yes, Harleen?" she responded.

"Umm… what are you doing?"

"I'm going to sit here and keep you company until you fall asleep. It's something that my mother used to do for me when I was a little girl and I had a nightmare. I always found it very soothing."

Hermione found that she couldn't really name the expression that came over her friend's face at that admission, but the girl flushed slightly, visible even in the dim light, and went about making herself comfortable, turning onto her side and looking up at the girl beside her.

"Do you think you could lay down?" Harleen asked after nearly a minute of silence passed them by. "It's a little weird looking up at you like this."

Hermione considered the request for a moment before she shrugged and slid down a bit in the bed, though her shoulders and head were still propped up slightly by a couple of pillows. She turned slightly and her free arm came up, almost without her consciously willing it to, and began to thread her fingers through Harleen's hair.

She almost didn't hear the soft sigh that escaped her friend, but the way the girl's eyes drifted closed and how she leaned her head into Hermione's hand was unmistakable.

_You make it very difficult to give you space to adjust, Harleen, _she thought, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Feel up to talking about it?" she murmured softly.

Harleen's face scrunched up and a disgruntled mewling sound escaped her.

"It was terrible," she whispered.

"You were saying my name."

Harleen was silent for such a long time after that that Hermione was beginning to wonder if she'd fallen back to sleep. Just as she was beginning to consider heading back to her own bed, Harleen spoke up.

"Have you ever heard of Bellatrix Lestrange?" she asked and Hermione silently shook her head even though the other girl's eyes were still closed.

"She's completely mad, and before she went to Azkaban, she was one of Voldemort's top followers. Completely devoted and completely deranged."

"How did you learn about her?"

Harleen hesitated for a moment. "That should be part of the discussion tomorrow," she said. "It'll take too long to explain otherwise."

Hermione didn't protest, but she did frown at yet another of her questions going, at least temporarily, unanswered.

"Anyway, we were… we were captured. You, me, and Ron, by some of the Death Eaters. Ron and I were in a cell in a basement and they'd dragged you away." Harleen's arm rose and snaked around Hermione's waist, gripping tightly to her as the girl spoke. "I could hear you screaming. Bellatrix kept asking you questions, and you kept telling her you didn't know, and she'd cast the Cruciatus at you. I got the cell door open, somehow, and Ron and I ran upstairs but something stopped us. I was frozen, just watching her torture you, listening to you scream, and there was nothing I could do.

"I kept yelling at her to leave you alone but it was like no one could hear me. She'd just pulled a knife and was walking toward you when you woke me up… I… I have never been so scared before. Not even fighting the basilisk or facing Voldemort in our first year was as terrifying as that." Bright green eyes opened, shining wetly. "You know, I want nothing more than to tell you to stay as far away from me as possible if it would in any way keep you safe. I know that wouldn't really work, you're too well known as being close to me, but the thought of something happening to you... anything happening to you... _terrifies _me."

They were quiet for a moment, Harleen studying the girl in her bed carefully while Hermione simply considered the dream her friend had described.

"Some Gryffindor I'm turning out to be, huh?" Harleen snorted a second later. "Scared out of my wits by a stupid dream."

"You are probably the most Gryffindor person I know, Harleen," Hermione shot back without even a moment's thought. "Being a Gryffindor isn't about not being afraid. Only stupid people that don't know better are never afraid. You're smart, you know how bad things can be, so you're right to be afraid. It's being afraid and not letting that fear stop you that really makes you a Gryffindor. That's part of what makes you such a wonderful person. Don't ever doubt that."

Hermione's hand stopped threading its way through Harleen's hair and she slid a bit further down the bed until the two of them were lying face to face, Hermione meeting the other girl's gaze as calmly as she could.

"I'm not going to try to pretend that it isn't possible I'll never get hurt. I'd be lying to you if I said something like that. But I will promise you that what I said still stands. There isn't a scenario that exists that I won't be there for you. You want me to be safe, well I want _you_ to be safe too. You're too important to me and it kills me a little bit every time you get hurt."

Harleen opened her mouth but Hermione covered the girl's lips with her fingers, stopping her before she could start.

"I'm not blaming you. Most of the time it's not your fault when you've gotten hurt, but that doesn't mean I don't worry. I don't ever intend to let you deal with any of this alone if I can possibly help it. I _want_ to help you. I _want_ to be there for you. That's my choice. My decision to make. You can disagree all you like, and if you're worried I'll get hurt then help me get better. We can help each other practice and train and be prepared for whatever the world throws at us.

"But I'm going to warn you right now, as important as you are to me, as much as I love and care for the best friend that I've ever had, if you try to keep me away from whatever danger there is out of some _stupid _idea of 'protecting' me, I will hex you so badly that you'll be in the Hospital Wing long enough to have to start paying Madam Pomfrey rent. Do you understand me?"

Harleen's face cycled through a myriad of expressions and emotions while Hermione spoke, and by the time she'd finished she'd settled into something like resigned acceptance. Gently, she took hold of Hermione's wrist and pulled the girl's hand away from her mouth.

"I understand, but I'm not going to promise that yet. Wait until after we talk, and if you still feel the same way, I'll promise it then, fair?"

"I don't think there's anything that you could possibly say to me that would make me want to run away or abandon you, but I can accept that, for now."

Harleen said nothing, she simply closed her eyes again and moved closer to Hermione, her arm still wrapped tightly around the other girl.

"Do you think you could stay here?" she whispered a moment later. "At least until I go to sleep?"

Hermione nodded, letting her hand brush through Harleen's hair again, smiling when the girl's body relaxed against her.

_Just until she falls asleep, _she thought. She never noticed when Harleen's breath evened, nor did she notice her own eyes drifting shut as sleep took her. Both girls slept, tangled in the arms of their fiercest protector, safe in the knowledge of who they were with.

#####

Saturday morning, Harleen opened her eyes and slowly blinked several times, groggily attempting to make sense of the image before her.

_There's no way Hermione is actually in bed with me, is there?_ she wondered, still more asleep than awake. If this _wasn't_ simply another dream, or the product of her imagination, then yes, Hermione was lying in her bed, her eyes closed as she peacefully slept on.

Harleen knew that her friend was not the great beauty that some of the girls in the school were. Her hair was rarely neat or orderly. At best her wild mane could be described as controlled chaos. Her brow was usually creased with lines from frowning, either in concentration or worry. She hated how her front teeth were a bit large, and Harleen couldn't blame her, as they'd always been one of those things people pointed out when they wanted to criticize or insult her.

She wasn't as thin as some girls, though she was by no means overweight. She had flaws, problems, and insecurities. All those things combined made her one of the most amazing girls that Harleen had ever known, and to her, by far, the most beautiful.

Harleen blinked again when the girl next to her moved, her body shifting just slightly, her face scrunched up in annoyance as she was drawn from her restful slumber and into the land of the conscious. Her eyes fluttered open, bright cinnamon irises meeting Harleen's own emerald green gaze, and after a momentary confusion, a small beatific smile turned up the corners of her full, pink lips.

Later, Harleen would swear that she had no control of herself. Her body moved entirely on its own, though even if she'd thought to try and stop it, she really didn't want to.

Her arm tightened, where it was still wrapped around Hermione's waist, pulling herself closer to the older witch. Hermione's lips parted, as if preparing to speak, when Harleen lifted her head and, gently but firmly, pressed their lips together in an undeniable kiss.

As kisses went, it wasn't a heated, passionate thing. It was gentle. It spoke of care and devotion. It was even relatively chaste. There was something, however, that made it easily the most amazing kiss that Harleen could remember.

She vaguely recalled Reaper calling it a 'spark'.

The term made sense all of a sudden to her as her muscles tightened when a feeling perhaps akin to being struck by a bolt of lightning shot through her, an electric, tingling sensation that spread from the point where their lips met outward across her entire body. All sense of drowsiness vanished instantly and she felt almost hyper aware of the girl in her arms.

By the way Hermione's body stiffened against her, her friend was experiencing the same thing.

_Or she's furious and is about to slap the hell out of me, _she thought as she slowly pulled back, the elation that was filling her giving way to a sense of trepidation as she waited for Hermione to react.

'React', is precisely what Hermione did. When Harleen pulled away, Hermione, her eyes closed, let out a small, distressed sound and leaned forward, attempting to pursue Harleen's retreating lips for a moment before her eyes abruptly blinked open and she stopped herself.

"Why did you kiss me?" she breathed, her face a study in conflicting emotions that Harleen couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Why did you stop?" Harleen asked back, slowly letting herself lean closer to the other girl again until a hand against her shoulder stopped her forward progress. A pang shot through her at that, but Harleen fought it down. She _knew_ that Hermione wanted her, she knew Hermione was interested in her, and perhaps, if Reaper was as correct on this issue as he'd been on everything else, she knew that Hermione loved her.

Obviously there was something that was holding the girl back, but she wouldn't jump to any conclusions until she knew for sure what issue was at the center of her reluctance.

"Harleen… why did you kiss me?" Hermione demanded, more firmly.

Harleen let out a small sigh and lowered her head back to her pillow, never breaking eye contact. "I'd think the why would be obvious," she whispered, somehow feeling that to speak any louder would risk breaking the fragile bubble that seemed to surround them. It was early in the morning and there were no demands on their day. She was lying in bed with the woman she loved more than her own life and wanted nothing more than to explore the girl in front of her.

"Harleen!"

Hermione apparently didn't agree with Harleen's feelings on volume level.

Harleen huffed. "What, Hermione?" she asked. "I kissed you. There's usually a reason when someone kisses another person. Is it really so difficult to think that I might have feelings for you beyond friendship?"

Hermione blinked several times, startled by the vehemence in Harleen's tone and she leaned back slightly. Harleen let out a disgruntled noise.

"If you're going to back that far away from me, can you at least hand me my glasses so I can see you?" she grumbled and Hermione nodded absently, rolling onto her back to reach for the silver framed glasses where they rested on the nightstand. Turning back, she handed them over to Harleen who slipped them on, settling them carefully on her nose.

Hermione was chewing pensively on her lower lip, her eyes worried as she considered her friend.

"Harleen, I'm really not sure it's a good idea for you to be exploring a relationship right now," Hermione started.

"Why? And how is it up to you to decide that's what is right for me? Just like you won't let me keep you away from danger, I won't let you just dismiss how I feel about you."

"And how do you feel? When did that start? Because you've gone through something life changing and I can't know for certain that you're not attempting to latch onto me as someone you know and are familiar with."

Harleen sat up, looking down at the other girl in her bed incredulously. "You think I'm interested in you because I changed? Because I got my proper body back and this is a response to… what? To trauma?"

"Well you've never shown any interest in me before the other day," Hermione defended herself.

Harleen considered that and had to admit that she had a small point. Problem was she couldn't exactly explain that she realized what it was she'd been feeling for Hermione in their sixth year that hadn't happened yet.

"I promise you, I've felt something for you for a long time, I just didn't really know how to define it or what it really was," she admitted. "I've never had any good examples of what a healthy relationship looks like. I've never had any good examples of love. I… dammit, I can't properly explain this so you'll understand or believe me!"

Frustrated, Harleen climbed out of bed and stomped over to her trunk, almost flinging it open to the second compartment. "Who gives a toss that I'm the Lady of my House?" she muttered. "I want to be comfortable and I don't give a damn what anyone thinks."

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting dressed," Harleen said over her shoulder to where Hermione had just sat up in bed, staring, bewildered at the sudden rush of motion that Harleen had turned into. "You get dressed too. I promised you answers, and some of those answers are tied into how I feel about you. Or how I understand it, at least."

_Dammit, Potter! You just couldn't control yourself. Couldn't approach her a little more cautiously. Had to throw yourself into the deep end, like always, and it looks like you're going to foul everything up!_

"Harleen, I think we need to finish this conversation first," Hermione tried, though she had already moved over to her own trunk.

"No. Look, Hermione… I _know_ how I feel. I know _what_ I feel. It took me a long time to figure it out, longer than you can imagine, and it'll all make sense, but I need to give you the answers I've been promising first. Thing is we can't have _that_ conversation around here. We need someplace private that we're absolutely _guaranteed _not to be interrupted."

"Someplace like that exists in this school?" Hermione asked, scoffing quietly.

Despite her concerns over the upcoming discussion, Harleen couldn't help a grin.

"You'd be surprised. Hold onto your hat, Hermione. You're gonna love this place."


	10. A Revealing Conversation

**Author's notes: Here we are again, gang. For those reading my other stories, please, don't worry, I AM still working on them. Life has just decided to use me as a punching bag lately and I've been exhausted and drained and just too emotional to do as much writing as usual. Just the other day, though, I did scrap what I had for the newest Soul Scars and started over. Got some ideas on how to work the scenes I wanted and progress is being made. **

**So… here it is. The big discussion. I honestly had a lot of trouble with HOW to go about this conversation. How to get all of the information out that needed out without boring you readers with things you already know and so on but I think I like how it all came together. Took a lot and I struggled with most of it, but it's there and we're moving forward. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter franchise. Nope, not me. **

**Without any further ado here is chapter 10 of A Fair Life.**

A Fair Life

A Revealing Conversation

by,

Rtnwriter

"Harleen?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Could you please explain to me just why we're standing by a tapestry of an apparently deranged wizard that seems to be trying to teach trolls how to dance ballet?"

"You don't think he can do it?" Harleen asked, peering curiously at the tapestry.

"Trolls don't possess the necessary fine motor skills, nor the mental acuity, to learn an art like ballet. Why. Are. We. Here?"

Normally, Hermione might have been at least slightly amused by her friend's attempted humor, but right at that particular moment her head and her heart were being pulled in so many different directions that she just did not have the patience to deal with any more distractions or delays.

"Right," Harleen sighed before she turned and faced the blank stretch of wall directly across from them. "Hogwarts has a lot of secrets," she said. "The Chamber that Salazar built isn't the only, or even the most impressive, legacy hidden inside these walls. Probably the only thing that the Chamber of Secrets had going for it was that no one was able to find it before Tom and then us. Others have found this place in the past, but most of them were never able to find it again, or understand what it was they'd discovered in the first place."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione questioned. "It's just a bit of wall."

"What kind of space do we need?"

Hermione blinked in surprise and turned away from the wall to stare at the smaller girl standing beside her.

"What?"

"Space. What kind of space do we need for this discussion? A sitting room? Comfortable chairs, or maybe a couch? I think a fireplace would be nice, that always seems to add to the atmosphere of a room."

"Harleen, what are you talking about?"

Harleen shrugged, not looking in her direction as she continued to consider the wall with a look of concentration etched onto her features. "All right, I'll just wing it and let the Room decide," she said. "Wait here a moment."

Stepping away from Hermione, Harleen walked up to the wall and turned to walk back the way they'd come up the corridor. She turned after a few paces and walked back the other way and Hermione realized that the other girl had her eyes closed and her lips were moving as she whispered something over and over to herself. She moved down the hall, then turned and started back again and Hermione couldn't help but wonder at this inexplicable behavior. Harleen turned for a third pass over the stretch of wall and Hermione opened her mouth to question the girl when she stopped, her jaw hanging open as a large, ornate door suddenly seemed to grow out of the wall.

In less than a second the door was fully formed and looked as if it had been there all along, despite her knowing that it hadn't been even thirty seconds earlier.

"What did you do?" she blurted out as Harleen turned around one last time and opened her eyes, grinning as she spotted the door.

"I made us a place to talk. Come on."

Without any further delay, Harleen opened the door and gestured for Hermione to enter ahead of her, which she did, slowly, her eyes darting around the room as she entered it.

"This is impossible," she muttered. "This wall is part of the outer wall of the Tower. There's no space for there to be a room here."

"Yeah, I've never really been sure how that works, but I'd guess that Rowena built this place. It's too amazing a piece of magic, and probably far too complicated for anyone other than her to have conceived of the concept. It's known as the Room of Requirement and it can become just about anything the user needs."

"How long have you known about this place? How did you find it?"

The room beyond the door was… cozy was the best word Hermione could think of to describe it. As Harleen had said, there was a fireplace with a merrily burning fire crackling within it against the wall directly opposite the door. In front of that fireplace sat a low coffee table, two plush armchairs, and a small sofa. At first inspection the sofa looked to be just about the perfect size for the two of them to sit comfortably, but also somewhat intimately.

She fought down a flush and turned to Harleen who was frowning, one finger tapping her chin as she appeared to be lost in thought.

"Well… in one way, this is my first time seeing or using this room. In another way, I've known about it and used it frequently for three years now."

Hermione gaped at the girl, watching as she closed the door behind her, which disappeared a moment later, and moved across the thick, cream colored carpet until she was standing by one of the armchairs. She looked around, frowning at the seating arrangement for a moment before she nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. She then kicked off her shoes and sat in the armchair to the left of the sofa, pulling her feet up so her legs were curled up on the seat beside her as she leaned against one arm and she gestured to the sofa, indicating that Hermione should sit.

"That doesn't make any sense," Hermione argued as she moved over and sat, setting down the bag she had slung over one shoulder. She hesitated a moment before she removed her own shoes and she turned, sitting with her back to the arm of the sofa with her feet on the cushion, knees drawn up. "How could this be your first time here if you've used this place for years? And if you've known about it for that long, why haven't you told me about it before now?"

"I know it doesn't make sense, and I'm sorry but a lot of what I'm going to say isn't going to seem to make a lot of sense, but I promise you it's all true as far as I know."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back in her spot on the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest. She took a deep breath and held it, slowly counting to ten in her head before she exhaled.

_I need to be calm and rational, _she thought. _One thing at a time. _

"I have a question," she said, looking up to find Harleen giving her an incredulous look.

"Only one?" the other girl said, clearly surprised.

"No. No, I have so many questions that I've lost track at this point. This is just the first, and possibly most important at the start here. How_ much_ can you tell me?"

Harleen cocked her head to one side. "How do you mean?"

"You told Madam Longbottom that there was a lot you weren't allowed to tell anyone, but there was _one_ person you could tell more. So how much can you tell me, and actually, who is it you can tell the most? Shouldn't you be taking to them instead of me? Not that I don't want to know, but why waste time with me?"

Harleen's lips stretched into a broad smile. "You're that person," she said, to Hermione's surprise. "_You_ are the one person I'm allowed to explain most of this to."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Me?" she squeaked. "Why me?"

"Why not you?"

"Harleen! I'm serious. Why me? I get the feeling that whatever this is, you might be caught up in the center of it but it's going to affect a lot of other people, isn't it?"

Harleen nodded.

"Then why would you choose me? I understand that you don't trust him, and believe me, I don't particularly trust him myself either, but wouldn't the Headmaster be better to tell all this to than someone like me?"

"Dumbledore might be just as good, but there's the whole trust issue. Aside from that, you are brilliant in a way I could never hope to be. I'm not stupid, but you are on an entirely different level from me. I trust you beyond anyone. And… well, I actually didn't pick you. Given a choice I _would_ have chosen you over anyone else, but from what I understand, the reason that I'm allowed to tell you specifically is because of the role you might be able to play in my life."

"What role is that?"

Harleen fidgeted nervously in her seat, her eyes moving away from Hermione to land on her hands where she had them resting on her thigh. "I'd rather not say right now," she admitted.

Hermione frowned, her mind latching onto the other girl's wording. "You'd 'rather not'," she repeated. "Not that you can't, but that you won't?"

"I won't influence you or your choices if I can help it," Harleen insisted. "Telling you could push you to choose something one way or another. If you decide to fill that role, I want you to do it because you _want_ to, not because you think you _should_."

Hermione considered that carefully and she had to admit that her friend had a point. A part of her burned to know, but she could easily see where Harleen's hesitance was coming from. There was only one problem.

"How do I make a choice that I know nothing about?" she asked. "The decision could be right in front of me and I might choose wrong because I don't know there's even a choice to be made."

"Because it's not that kind of choice," Harleen explained with a shake of her head. "It isn't a moment in the future where you'll be faced with a decision and you'll have to choose or let it pass you by."

Harleen sighed and shifted her weight in her seat. "Look, can we just get to the explanations? It's going to take a while, and we still have another discussion to finish."

Hermione fought a bright flush as she recalled the so recent memory of Harleen's lips against her own and the sensation that had shot through her body during that brief, yet phenomenal, kiss. They _did_ still need to discuss that entire situation but Harleen was right in that there was another, more important discussion that needed to be had first. Unsure of her ability to speak without stammering like a fool, she simply nodded and pulled a notebook and pen from her bag where she'd set it on the coffee table.

Flipping the book open she readied her pen, cleared her throat, and gave the other girl an expectant look. "Should I ask questions, or do you just want to explain and I'll ask what I need for clarity?"

"Probably best if I get through everything and you ask questions after," Harleen decided nervously. She took several long breaths, af if attempting to calm her nerves, and straightened up in her seat.

"Okay, first thing is on Monday when I said I'd had a dream… I'm not completely sure that's true. I mean, I woke up in my bed in the dorm, but I don't feel like what I experienced happened in my head. Basically… I think someone gave me memories."

Hermione arched a brow incredulously.

"Memories? Of what? Whose memories?"

"My memories, of the next three and a half years, give or take."

Hermione felt her jaw drop open.

"I remember fourth year. I remember our fifth year, and our sixth year, and what_ should_ have been our seventh year here at school."

Hermione's mouth moved several times without producing any sound before she was able to ask, "'Should have been'?"

Harleen grimaced. "Yeah, you, Ron, and I didn't return for our seventh year. We were busy with a mission that Dumbledore gave to me and we couldn't be seen anyway. Voldemort took over the Ministry that summer and we were public enemies one, two, and three."

"How could he do that? He's just a spirit."

"He comes back this year, gets himself a new body with my blood as one of the main ingredients in the ritual."

Harleen had a haunted expression on her face and her left hand was absently rubbing at the crook of her right elbow, as if it was hurting her.

Shaking her head Hermione held out one hand in a stopping gesture. "Wait. Start at the beginning, explain each year to me."

"You believe me?" Harleen asked, sounding surprised.

"I don't know what to believe, but I'd like to hear you out at least," she stated firmly, a determined expression on her face.

What the girl had already said made a strange degree of sense even as it sounded impossible. If mentally Harleen was nearly four years older than her physical body… that might explain the increased maturity Hermione had noticed. At the same time however, what she was describing was impossible as far as Hermione knew. And if it _was_ actually possible, _how_ did it happen?

Slowly Harleen began to speak, going over everything she claimed to remember from the upcoming years and the longer she spoke, the more incredible, and plausible, it all sounded. The degree of detail she went into with each year, the people she mentioned and the actions that were taken… it was either true, or her friend was incredibly sick and had concocted an elaborate fantasy in a broken psychological state.

There were probably other possible reasons, such as Harleen was lying to her, but she didn't feel that her best friend was lying. If she wasn't lying then she, at least, _believed_ this all to be true. Honestly, Hermione didn't know whether to pray it was the truth, or hope it was all in her friend's head.

"The last thing I remember was facing Voldemort. I remember a flash of green light and then nothing."

"And then you were in that office you mentioned?" Hermione asked.

Harleen hummed an affirmative sounding reply though after two hours of talking the girl was too busy working her way through a glass of water to give a more articulate answer.

"This is… this is all…" Hermione trailed off, searching for the proper words to express her shock.

"Crazy?" Harleen asked with a wry grin as she lowered the now empty glass.

"No!" Hermione blurted out. "No, not crazy, just… incredible, unbelievable, outlandish… take your pick. It's a lot to take in, Harleen."

"Yeah, I'll give you that." Harleen fiddled with the glass in her hands for a few moments before she leaned forward and set it down on the coffee table. "Well, I'm sure you have questions."

_Understatement of the century,_ Hermione thought, glancing quickly over the many pages of notes she'd made while her friend had been talking. _I just don't have the slightest clue where to start!_

"God, this is just so… I mean I get that you feel it's true, but how can we be sure of that? Who was the person that talked to you in that office? How were you there? Were you really _there?_ Or did it happen in your head? And if it _did_ happen in your head can we just assume that it's not real? Or does it matter one way or the other? Who would give you memories of something that hasn't happened yet? How could they do it? And more importantly _why_ would they do it?"

"I think the 'why' is pretty clear," Harleen interrupted Hermione's rambling mutterings. "I'm to change things, fix things, so they don't happen as those memories show me they happened. In them Sirius died. Dumbledore died. Moony and Tonks and so many others _died_, Hermione."

Hermione lifted her head to see the other girl curled into a ball in her chair, her arms wrapped around her legs with her chin resting on her knees. Tears glimmered in her eyes and there was an expression of such pain on her face that Hermione felt her heart go out to her friend.

Whether the memories themselves were real or imagined, the pain those memories caused Harleen was very real, and Hermione found herself at a loss as to how to help.

Before she could move or say anything Harleen seemed to shake herself and she straightened up in her seat. "Things have already changed from how I remember them happening, I only hope that I'm changing things for the better and that's just a part of why I need you," she said, bright green eyes fixed firmly on the brunette witch. "I need your help to make sure I don't make a hash of this and make things worse than they could have been."

"I'll always help you however I can, Harleen. If I've said it once I've said it a hundred times by now… but, _how_ have you changed things?"

Harleen's brow furrowed in thought. "Well… Cedric believes that I didn't put my name in the goblet. I remember falling out with Ron, but not like it happened the other day. The biggest thing is, in my memories I wasn't a girl. The goblet didn't give me my proper body back and I remained a boy right up to the end. I think that'll cause plenty of changes all on its own."

For another hour they continued, Hermione asking questions and Harleen answering as best she could. Hermione was more than a little put out by the idea of a prophecy and even more so when she was told who gave the prophecy. Harleen went into greater detail about the upcoming years while Hermione looked for any holes in the story.

"So what do you think?" Harleen finally asked once they decided to take a break for lunch.

"I think you shouldn't be asking Dobby for things," she muttered, staring at the lunch spread the little elf had brought them at Harleen's request.

"That's the thing though, I _ask,_" Harleen pointed out. "I don't order or command. I ask and Dobby knows he can say no if he wants to."

_As if that little guy would ever say no to any request from you,_ Hermione thought.

"That's not what I meant when I asked what you thought."

Hermione sighed and picked up her plate, sitting back on the couch with the plate in her lap. "I know," she admitted softly.

"Honestly, I don't know what to think," she muttered, absently pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. "There are who knows how many conclusions I could draw from your story, but I think only two are even remotely possible."

"What are they?" Harleen asked in a gentle, understanding tone that only served to twist Hermione's stomach into greater knots of guilt.

"First, it's all true. That you have these memories of something that hasn't happened yet, which should be impossible as far as I know. Even the memories themselves, all true, and we now have an opportunity to do something with the knowledge you have."

"And the second possibility?"

Hermione's eyes squeezed tightly shut, her face screwing up into a grimace at the softly spoken question. Still, she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. She plucked up her courage and pushed forward.

"With all the bad things that have happened to you over the years… it's not impossible that the trauma of getting your proper gender back may have caused something of a psychotic break. Your mind might have concocted this whole elaborate history as a sort of coping mechanism."

"But it all started before the goblet gave me my proper form back. That doesn't fit."

"It can when you take into account how hard your life has been even before that. Admittedly, you knowing about your real gender and the Champions and Neville's wand… I don't know how you would have learned that but it's not impossible."

"So… you think I'm crazy."

Hermione's eyes flew open even as her head snapped up toward her friend. "No!" she burst out. "You're not crazy! Even _if_ that's what's happened here you would be unwell, sick, and you would need help. You're not crazy. I don't want you to talk like that, Harleen Potter!"

Hermione expected the other girl to look upset, but instead Harleen was giving her a soft smile that seemed to light up her face, her eyes practically gleaming behind her new glasses. She raised both of her hands in a placating gesture in the face of Hermione's sudden ire.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Like I told you before, if all this hadn't happened to me I'd find the whole story crazy. I'll stop saying that if it bothers you though."

"Of course it bothers me. I don't like you thinking about yourself like that, Harleen."

The two of them fell silent for a short time, Hermione rather heavily absorbed in her thoughts as Harleen appeared to simply be observing her. Sighing, Hermione set her plate aside, not having managed a single bite in her agitated state, before she turned her attention back to her friend.

"Look, long and short, I really don't know what to think, what to believe. At the very minimum I believe that _you_ believe this is all true, but I can't say for certain. There's… there's been a few signs that maybe there's something to this but I'm not sure how you can prove anything you're saying. It's all about events that aren't going to happen anymore if you're actually changing the future."

"You mean me predicting the champions, predicting my actual birth gender, the things I know that I can't possibly have known," Harleen listed and Hermione nodded.

"Yes, those all lend some credence to your story but I can't see them as definitive proof in and of themselves. I'm just not sure how you could actually prove what you're saying."

Again Hermione was surprised when Harleen smiled more broadly than before.

"I've been thinking about that. I know you, Hermione Granger. I know that, best friend or not, you'd need some form of proof. So, how'd you like to help me destroy a horcrux?"

Hermione stared at Harleen. "Okay, next question… what's a horcrux?"

#####

Her eyes closed, Harleen paced in front of the wall again, thinking repeatedly, _I need a place to hide something. _

When the door appeared she grinned and pulled it open, gesturing widely with one arm for Hermione to precede her into the room. "Welcome, to the Room of Lost Things," she said, barely holding back a giggle at the dumbfounded expression on the other girl's face.

"This is incredible," Hermione breathed, slowly turning to take in the massive size of the room behind the door. The space easily dwarfed the Great Hall in dimension and was absolutely crammed full of mounds and piles of junk. Centuries worth of lost items lay within that room, so much that to search the place entirely would have been a monumental undertaking.

_Good thing we're not looking to search the whole place._

"What is all this?"

"From what I understand, everything that gets lost or left behind in the school gets placed here by the house elves. It's been collecting 'lost' things since the school was founded. Or… since the Room was built, at least."

"And what are we doing here? You said something about a horcrux? Those were the soul containers that Voldemort made, right?"

Harleen nodded and began to lead the way deeper into the room amongst the stacks of junk. "That's right," she said as Hermione fell into step beside her, still with an expression of overwhelmed awe on her face.

"Sixth year, you and I argue a lot over a potions book," Harleen said.

"The Halfblood Prince," Hermione supplied and Harleen found herself nodding.

"Exactly. I was never really sure why you were so upset about that. It's the only time I can remember where you weren't solidly supporting me." Harleen suddenly paused, a thoughtful look on her face. "Not that I'm blaming you or something. That won't happen now but it just struck me as weird. I can't figure out why you would act that way."

Harleen wasn't paying any attention to Hermione as they walked, her focus on their surroundings as she did her best to remember where she was going. As such it took a few seconds before she realized that her friend was no longer beside her.

"I think… I think I might know why I could have acted that way."

Harleen stopped and turned around, surprised to see Hermione some ten feet away, her eyes lowered to the floor, hands twinning and twisting together nervously in front of her.

Hesitantly Harleen opened her mouth but no immediate response came to mind, so she pressed her lips together and waited as patiently as she could.

"You… you've been f-flirting with me for days," Hermione seemed to force out. "Then you changed. and you've kissed me twice now _after_ becoming a girl again. You know, don't you? You know I'm…"

"I know you're gay," Harleen said softly when Hermione trailed off into silence. "My memories didn't tell me that, I learned it in that office. He told me the role you might play in my life and, to me, it was impossible. It didn't make sense. He explained that it was because I stayed male in those memories. In my memories you even told me that you were in love with me, but for some reason that you refused to say, you couldn't actually be with me. When I found out you didn't like men that made a lot more sense"

"How long have you felt something for me, Harleen?" Hermione finally asked. "When did it start, even if you didn't understand it or know what it was, how long ago did you feel something?"

Harleen turned so she was facing the other girl fully, abandoning her search to focus on her friend, giving Hermione her full attention.

"I don't really know," she said. "I thought when we first met on the train that you seemed interesting. A little bossy, and you talked a lot, but interesting. If it hadn't been for Ron wanting nothing to do with you, I might have tried to get to know you sooner. Not blaming Ron entirely for that either; it's at least partially my fault. Ron was my first friend my age and I didn't know how to be his friend and disagree with him at the same time."

Hermione nodded absently as Harleen spoke. "Did you know that I started dreaming about you in third year?" she asked.

Harleen blinked a few times in surprise and slowly shook her head.

"Not you, 'Harry Potter' but you as you are now, as 'Harleen Potter'." Hermione turned and picked up a book off of a small stack of junk, idly flipping it open and turning a few pages. "It started around the time we made up after the whole Firebolt issue. I started having dreams of this girl with green eyes and black hair that reminded me so much of my best friend."

_That has to be because we're supposed to be soulmates,_ Harleen thought, carefully watching Hermione as she continued flipping through the book.

"I don't know how, or why, but when you changed on Monday night… I recognized the girl in my arms immediately." She closed the book and set it back on the pile. "It's been driving me barmy, I swear," she muttered. "You… dammit I've felt drawn to you practically since we met, Harleen. Something about you caught my attention, like something was pulling at me. But I'm not interested in boys."

She turned, her eyes meeting Harleen's again and the raven haired girl wasn't in the least bit surprised to see tears brimming in the other girl's gaze.

"Can you imagine that? Feeling something for someone emotionally but not feeling anything else? You were a boy, but my heart was telling me one thing that the rest of me wanted to deny. If it continued… if you'd stayed a boy and my feelings continued on as they were, or grew stronger… I guess I'm not surprised I could have acted that way. I think I would have felt like I was completely losing my mind by that time."

Harleen found herself nodding. "I think I can understand that. That's another issue to lay at Dumbledore's feet, I guess. If he hadn't messed with my gender you wouldn't have suffered that."

_You wouldn't be doubting how I feel about you now,_ she added mentally. A moment later Harleen shook her head and extended her arm, holding her hand out to the other girl. "Come on," she whispered. "We really need to finish the rest of our discussion but we need to find this horcrux first."

Almost hesitantly, Hermione moved closer and slowly accepted the offered hand. Harleen carefully threaded their fingers together and lifted their clasped hands. She pressed a soft kiss to Hermione's knuckles before she lowered their hands and continued through the maze of junk, gently pulling Hermione with her.

They were silent for several minutes before Hermione spoke again.

"How did it happen?" she asked and Harleen turned to look up at the girl next to her.

"How did what happen?"

Hermione wasn't looking at her, but her cheeks were pink with a soft flush as she spoke.

"You said I told you that I loved you in these memories you have. How did it happen? When?"

Harleen winced and turned her attention back to where they were going. "Well, as I seem to have a habit of doing, it happened because I was stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"This way," Harleen murmured, turning right at an intersection as she pulled Hermione along with her. "It happened the same way I keep being stupid now." She shot a look at Hermione out of the corner of her eye. "It happened because I kissed you. It was during the Hunt I told you about, after Ron left. You and I were dancing. You'd been very upset since he left and I wanted to try to cheer you up. Like an idiot I just couldn't stop myself. You looked so beautiful, and so happy after a while that I just kissed you."

"And you were still male at the time?"

Harleen's face turned up into a grimace at that. "Yeah. It uh… it didn't go over well. You were very nice about shooting me down," she hastened to add. "You made it very clear our friendship wasn't going to suffer but you couldn't be anything more to me than that."

"Harleen… do you think it's possible that what you think you feel is being influenced by these-"

"Here it is."

Harleen let go of Hermione's hand after cutting her off and pulling the other girl to a stop in front of the bust where Ravenclaw's Diadem sat. She studied it for a moment, wondering over how different it looked to her now that she knew what it was. The first time she'd seen it, when she was trying to hide the potions book, it hadn't looked like anything more than a cheap tiara. Even now, it _looked_ exactly the same, but colored by her knowledge of how tainted it was, it seemed ominous and foul.

"What is it?"

"The tiara," Harleen answered, flicking her wrist so that her wand shot out into her hand from her holster. Silently, she levitated the diadem off of the bust and set it on a clear patch of ground.

"This is Ravenclaw's Diadem," Harleen explained, turning away from the tainted artifact to face the other girl. "When he was a student here, Voldemort managed to get the location from the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's ghost."

"How did she know?"

"Because she's actually Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter," Harleen explained. "She stole the diadem from her mother and ran away from the school. I don't exactly remember why right now. The Bloody Baron was once her lover, and he was actually the one who was sent to find her. In the end he killed her." Harleen paused again in thought for a moment. "Or maybe he wanted to be lovers but she'd rejected him in the past. I don't entirely remember at the moment, but it was something like that."

"That's terrible."

Harleen shrugged. "Just what I remember being told. Things were a little hectic at the time."

Hermione stepped closer to the diadem, studying it curiously and Harleen reached out and grabbed her arm. "Don't get too close," she warned. "The others had strange effects on people that spent too much time close to them. I don't know what this one can, or will, do."

Nodding, Hermione backed up a step until she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Harleen.

"Does it really have to be destroyed? It's such an important artifact, historically speaking. It seems a shame to destroy something like that."

"I don't know of any other way to get rid of it. As it is they're almost impossible to destroy. If there was a way to get the horcrux out without destroying the artifact itself I'd imagine it would be way beyond either of us to do it, even if we knew how."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, how do you intend to destroy it?"

"Well as far as I know there's only two ways to destroy one of these things. Fiendfyre, or basilisk venom."

Hermione jerked around to face her, her eyes wide. "You want to take it down to the Chamber?"

Harleen smiled and shook her head. "Not my first choice, though it may come to that. Personally, I don't know how to cast Fiendyre, so that's out, but there's another option, maybe."

"The only other thing you mentioned was the Sword of Gryffindor. It's infused with the venom from the basilisk, right?"

Harleen nodded and reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out a tattered and many times folded over piece of parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she murmured, pressing the tip of her wand to the map. As the lines of the map appeared on the parchment she folded and unfolded different sections, searching the castle carefully for several minutes.

"Dumbledore is in the Great Hall," she muttered once she located the dot with the Headmaster's name next to it. "Probably eating lunch. This is likely the best time for us to try to do this." She handed the map over to Hermione and turned slightly away from her. "Dobby?" she called, a smile breaking out on her face when he appeared in front of her with a crack.

"The Great Harry Potter calls for Dobby?"

"Thanks so much for coming, Dobby," she said, lowering herself to one knee so she was closer to the little guys height. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something, _but_," she added the last word sternly, raising one finger to emphasize her point, "if it's too difficult or if it's dangerous at all I want you to say 'no' do you understand?"

Dobby nodded his head rapidly, his ears flapping back and forth as he moved. "Yes, Miss Harry Potter. Dobby understands. What can Dobby be doing for the Great Harry Potter?"

"In the Headmaster's office there's a sword with a number of rubies set in the handle. It used to belong to Godric Gryffindor, do you know the sword I'm talking about?"

Dobby nodded again, bouncing up and down excitedly. "Yes! Oh, yes, Dobby knows. Dobby has seen the sword while he is cleaning."

"I really need to borrow that sword. Just for a few minutes. Do you think you could bring it to me here? Again, Dobby, if you can't or if it is protected and would hurt you to try then don't do it. I can find another solution if I need to."

Dobby shook his head furiously. "No. It is being no trouble at all. Dobby can gets it."

With that he snapped his fingers and vanished with a crack, reappearing in less than five seconds with another loud crack, the hilt of the sword clasped in one hand and he held it out to her.

"Oh, wow! I wasn't really sure that would work. Thank you so much, Dobby. This is brilliant."

The smile Harleen offered the little elf as she took the sword was broad and beaming and Dobby shivered excitedly, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again as tears welled up in his enormous eyes.

"The Great Harry Potter is too kind to thank Dobby so," he practically wailed. "Please, call for Dobby whenever you needs him."

Tears streaming down his face the little elf snapped his fingers and vanished with another crack of displaced air as Harleen stood and turned to Hermione, holding the sword triumphantly in one hand.

A moment later Hermione's eyes widened as Harleen twisted her wrist, turning the weapon so she was presenting the hilt to the other girl.

"How would you like to be the one to destroy it?" Harleen asked.

"WHAT?!"

#####

Gratefully, Hermione accepted the cup of steaming hot tea that was gently pressed into her hands, her eyes fixed on the twisted, blackened remains of the diadem where it rested on the coffee table in front of the sofa. They were back in the cozy sitting room they'd started Harleen's explanation in, and Hermione's hands had finally stopped trembling enough for her to hold the tea without the risk of spilling the scalding liquid all over herself.

"That… that was not right," she whispered, gingerly lifting her cup for a small, careful sip. Maybe it was just that she was English and raised with the mindset that there was almost nothing that couldn't be fixed by a soothing cup of tea, but that first taste did wonders to calm her frayed nerves. Harleen had even prepared the cup exactly as she would have, a single sugar with just a touch of milk and a bit of lemon.

_Guess I shouldn't be surprised that she knows how I take my tea,_ she thought absently, her eyes still fixed on the diadem.

"It's one of the worst forms of magic there is," Harleen said from beside her on the small sofa, the two of them sitting so closely together their hips and thighs were pressed against each other.

"It fought me!" Hermione burst out. "I didn't know what to expect but…" She trailed off, unable to truly articulate the experience she'd just had. Harleen had handed her the sword, warning her to be extremely careful of the blade and the other girl had stepped away, giving her a clear view of the innocent looking piece of headwear where it had sat on the stone floor.

The moment she took a step toward it however… She shuddered, barely steadying the cup in her hands before she spilled her tea.

"I didn't really expect that either," Harleen quietly admitted. "I remember it being destroyed with Fiendfyre. We were more worried about trying to escape the Room at the time than we were looking to see what the diadem was doing."

Destroying the horcrux had been a draining, frightening experience. Something far beyond what Hermione had guessed would happen. But… as proof went, it had certainly done a lot to convince her that Harleen's memories were real.

"There's so much that we need to decide and work on," Hermione muttered, staring blankly into her cup. Occasional ripples spread across the surface of the liquid as another tremor would rock her hands.

"What's that?"

"There's so much to do," Hermione said louder. "So many decisions to make and we can't second guess ourselves. _You_ need to train more. I'll help research and you need to teach me everything you've learned from fifth and sixth year, I have to catch up to where you are. Who do we involve and how do we do it? Should we form the DA you mentioned early? Oh my God! What about Professor Moody? He's being impersonated by a Death Eater! No wonder you attacked him like that in class! Do we just leave him for now or do we expose Barty Junior, somehow? And what about the-"

"Hermione?"

"-tasks? Can we assume they happen exactly as you remember them? Could they change at all because of the actions you've already taken? No… no it's not likely they'd change anything, nothing you've done should affect the tournament itself yet. What were the tasks again? How did you beat them before? Maybe we can find a better way to do it this time and-"

"Hermione."

"-how do we keep you out of that graveyard? Or maybe if you could go in prepared, and if I could go with you, maybe we could disrupt the ritual or destroy Voldemort right there? Oh! If we can catch Wormtail, we can get Sirius exonerated and get him his freedom!"

"HERMIONE!"

"WHAT?!"

Hermione jumped, violently startled out of her rambling, practically throwing her cup across the room where it shattered on the hearth in front of the fireplace. She jerked in her seat, twisting to face Harleen who was watching her with a concerned expression on her face. Nothing was said between the two girls for a span of a few heartbeats and then Hermione suddenly burst into tears, throwing herself at the girl beside her, her arms winding tightly around her friends shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered against Harleen's neck. "I'm sorry, I'm just… I can't believe this is-"

"It's okay, Hermione. Just… just breathe. It's okay."

Hermione barely heard the words Harleen whispered to her, she only just registered the calm, soothing tone of her voice and the way the one of Harleen's arms was wrapped securely around her waist, the other raised to let her hand gently stroke the back of Hermione's neck as she sobbed.

It took longer than Hermione was likely ever going to be willing to admit to get herself back under control, but eventually her tears subsided and she was able to pull away from Harleen, or she would have if the other girl hadn't kept a tight hold of her. With her thoughts still spinning a mile a minute, the offered comfort was welcome, even as she felt that they needed a little space between them.

"So, I take it you believe me now?"

Hermione sighed and sat up, pushing herself out of the other girl's arms and turning slightly so she could lean back against the arm of the sofa and still see Harleen without having to strain her neck to do so.

"Yes, I believe you. Ravenclaw's Diadem… that scream and the cloud that came out of the gem…" She trailed off, shuddering at the memory for a moment before forcefully shoving it aside. "That was pretty convincing, and even if I still needed more proof, I'm pretty sure you'll find ways to show me the truth of these memories of yours as time goes on."

Hermione wiped away the tears still staining her cheeks and took a few shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves.

"I'm sorry I broke down like that I was just…" She exhaled a frustrated sigh. "As if you don't already have enough danger in your life, now you're changing the future and trying to stop the most powerful Dark Lord the world has seen in centuries? All before even finishing school? At least Dumbledore waited until he was passed his fifties before he stopped Grindelwald!"

Harleen gave her a rueful grin. "Not as if I really have any choice in the matter. Someone dumped these memories into my head and I can't just sit back and do nothing. Not when I have some idea of what's coming. Someone once told me I have a 'saving people' thing. I can't help but do my best to save someone that's in trouble."

"Who told you something like that?"

Harleen smiled. "You did. Next year, before we left for the Ministry."

Hermione blinked a couple of times in surprise before she shook her head. "I'm going to be hearing a lot of lines like that, aren't I?" she muttered, though Harleen made no response, simply smiling wider at Hermione's consternation.

"As to your list of questions… we've got time to figure most of that out. I do like the idea of starting up the DA early. No reason not to, though I doubt people will be willing to let me teach them this time around. Maybe we could turn it into an open study group? What if we took that group from the Library the other day and we expanded it? We could hold the sessions in the Great Hall after dinner or something."

"Something to figure out."

"Moody and Crouch we'll have to decide on, but for the moment Mad-eye is safe. Crouch needs to keep him alive for his polyjuice potion so we don't have to rush. We can think carefully on what to do there. Everything else will similarly take time and we can afford to wait a little bit on those things."

"I get the feeling you're trying to avoid talking about them," Hermione pointed out.

Harleen shook her head, her gaze fixed intently on her bushy haired friend. "No. I just want to finish a much more important discussion right now and I don't want those things, as important as they are in their own right, getting in the way of us having that discussion."

After advocating that they finish that very discussion earlier in the dorm, Hermione suddenly found herself feeling considerably less willing to continue with it. In fact, she'd been mentally admonishing herself since she let her mouth run away with her earlier while they were searching for the Diadem. _You just had to admit to having feelings for her,_ she thought.

"Is this really more important than working out how we're going to save the world?" she asked, hoping to skip the conversation until she was ready for it.

Harleen's response was straightforward and simple. "To me it is," she said. "We've missed out on years that we could have had together and I might have told myself that I didn't want to rush you, but most of my life I've been selfless and set aside my wants for the good of everyone else. I'm sick and tired of being selfless. At least in this, where you're involved, I want to be selfish."

Hermione couldn't help but squirm under the intensity of the other girl's gaze and also couldn't bring herself to look away.

"I want you," Harleen continued. "I want to be with you. I told you on Monday that I was done taking you for granted so I have no intention of being in any way unclear. I love you, Hermione, and we both know that you have feelings for me, so… let's hear them."

Hermione stared for several seconds as Harleen waited expectantly before she managed to shake off her surprise at the other girl's blunt statement.

"Hear what?" she asked, confused by the odd demand.

"The reasons that you've been trying convince yourself why we shouldn't be together. You list them off and I'll try to counter them."

Once again, Hermione found herself flummoxed and off balance by the more confident and more mature version of her best friend. She was so used to being the one that Harleen came to for answers that seeing the girl take charge the way she was, was throwing Hermione for a loop. Still, Hermione rallied to the presented challenge and did her best to quickly organize her thoughts.

"You're right," she admitted slowly. "I _do_ have feelings for you. I have for a long time, but it was only at the end of last year that I was really able to define them. So, I'm not going to pretend that I don't. Not going to try to say that I don't _want_ to be with you."

She looked down at her hands where they were resting in her lap when Harleen's face broke out into a broad, beaming smile. She didn't want to see that naked joy wither away, something she was sure would happen with her next points.

"It's fairly obvious now that these memories you have must be real. One possibility that comes to mind is that they're influencing you now. Memories of things that haven't happened influencing how you react in the present. Memories of a time when you were male, older, and had been living in close proximity with your best female friend for months. How can you say what you're really feeling with those hanging over your head, figuratively speaking?"

"My memories aren't influencing me," Harleen stated confidently. A moment later she tilted her head slightly to one side, her face taking on a thoughtful cast. "Well… not influencing me to feel something that wasn't there before," she corrected herself.

"What do you mean?"

"It's strange to try to define," Harleen muttered absently. "I mean… I do remember all these things that haven't and won't happen. Our dance in the tent. Ron abandoning us on the Hunt. So many other things, but they do still influence me to an extent."

She paused and shifted in her seat, turning on the sofa so she was facing Hermione directly as she crossed her legs and leaned forward, elbows on her thighs with her hands clasped in front of her.

"I didn't develop these feelings for you in those memories. True, it wasn't until sixth year that I understood them, but they've been there for a long time. They were there last Sunday, before these memories happened, I just didn't recognize them for what they really were. The way I see it the only influence what I now remember has had on me is in helping me give context to what I feel. It's helped me define and name feelings that have been there since first year."

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to argue her point, but nothing came out. She paused for several seconds, her jaw slowly closing as her brow furrowed into a frown. _I… I really can't argue with that. She's got a point._

When she focused her attention on the girl across from her again, Harleen was grinning happily. "What else?" she asked and Hermione's frown deepened.

"Plenty," she muttered. "By your own admission you've got three and a half more years of memories in your head. That makes you, mentally, over seventeen-years-old. Seventeen years of living with a male body and the expectations, societal pressures, and so on that are placed on males… Now you're a girl, as you always should have been. I think it's unwise to jump into anything before giving yourself time to adjust to being a girl. You never know, your feelings might change once you spend some time in your proper gender."

"What makes you think that?"

Hermione sighed. "You spent seventeen years, or the mental equivalent of, with a male body, living with the expectations placed on men in society. It's more or less expected that men are attracted to women, and that's what you've grown up knowing. Now that you're back to being the girl you were always supposed to be, you don't have that expectation on you anymore. What's to say that in a few months, or a few years even, you might decide that you don't prefer women as much as you think you do now?"

Harleen shook her head, her ponytail bouncing back and forth with the sharp motion. "No. I've been thinking about that, actually, and I don't agree with that."

"Why not?"

"Because, considering it, I really think I've actually been a girl all along."

Hermione blinked several times, giving Harleen a questioning look.

"Think about it," Harleen insisted. "I was made to _appear _to be male with transfiguration and the use of potions and alchemy. Transfigure a man into a dog. Is that man now a dog, or is he a man that _looks_ like a dog? The shape might have changed, but on the inside, he's still a man. I might have been changed to physically be male, but my thoughts, my mind, my individuality was untouched. As a guy I found girls attractive and had no interest whatsoever in guys. As a girl my thoughts on that haven't changed in the slightest.

"Sure, on Sunday I'd have said I'm straight if anyone asked, but that's only because I thought I was a guy. Now, I'd consider myself a lesbian. The outside has changed. The way I look has changed. How I think, how I feel, who I am on the inside is exactly the same."

"How do you know?" Hermione demanded. "You haven't been a girl again for a full week yet. How can you know that things won't change? How can you know that _you_ won't change as time goes on?"

"I _will_ change."

Hermione jerked back, as if struck, at that simple statement, her eyes filling with tears even as a confusing mix of emotions swirled through her.

"I'm not the same person I was a year ago," Harleen continued speaking. "I'm not the same person that I was a week ago. A week from now, or a year from now, I won't be the same person that I am today. People change. That's a given, Hermione. We all change with time and experience. I would hope that you would be there, changing and growing with me. You ask how I know that I'm not interested in men, how do you know that you aren't? By your own argument, women are expected by society, and by common belief, to be attracted to men. So shouldn't you have found the boy me enough? How is it different?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she flushed furiously, something that she noted Harleen looking quite curious about.

"How _do_ you know?" Harleen asked again. "After that reaction, now I'm curious."

"Th-there was a… last summer, I… that's not important!" Hermione spluttered, shaking her head furiously.

"I think it's at least relevant," Harleen disagreed, grinning again but she let the matter drop, much to Hermione's relief. "Anyway, did you have any other arguments as to why we shouldn't be together?"

Still blushing and looking everywhere _but_ at the beauty sitting across from her, Hermione took a deep breath, slowly nodding her head.

"You're Harleen Potter," she said. "You're going to be the Head of your House one day. You're the hero of the wizarding world. You've got expectations hanging over you the likes of which I can barely comprehend. I've only ever had the expectations of my parents and myself to contend with… Do you have any idea the backlash you could be facing if it was known you were dating another woman?"

"Do you think I care?"

"This isn't a joke, Har-"

"I'm not laughing," Harleen interrupted her. "I'm also being completely serious." She reached out and grasped Hermione's hands, holding them firmly. "Maybe in this case I am letting my memories influence me more than usual, but I remember being abandoned for most of fourth year. I remember people turning on me over little more than rumor without ever talking to me, like they did in second year.

"I remember this entire society, with only a few exceptions, deciding I was a liar, that I was insane, glory seeking, and so on in fifth year. In sixth I was suddenly their hero again and everybody wanted to be close to me. Those things haven't happened yet, and even if they don't, I still remember them. I honestly couldn't care less what people think.

"Society doesn't get to decide who I love, who I want to be with. Society doesn't get to have any say in how I live my life, or who I want to share it with. If you're worried about the crap people will say, we can keep us a secret for as long as possible. Personally, I'm not ashamed to be in love with you. I'd be happy to show everyone how much you mean to me and anyone that wants to say anything against us can answer to me."

Unable to hold Harleens steady gaze, Hermione had dropped her eyes to their clasped hands, watching as Harleen's thumbs traced gentle circles on the backs of her own hands. That soft caress seemed to warm her, sending shivers through her body even as the simple words struck down every argument Hermione had attempted to dredge up.

_Really, why are you fighting this?_ she thought as her heart pounded in her chest, sending her blood racing through her veins.

"We both want this," Harleen spoke so softly it was almost a whisper. Her fingers tightened around Hermione's, deceptively strong despite her hands being so small and slender. "I don't know what else I need to do to convince you. Tell me how I can prove to you that I want this; I want us. Please."

It was the emotion in her voice that finally cut through Hermione's turmoil. Thus far Harleen had been relatively logical, systematically destroying all of Hermione's arguments, one after another. Her final words had devolved into an impassioned plea, clearly communicating just how much she really wanted something more for them both.

"You are my best friend," she told the raven haired girl. "You have been such a huge part of my life ever since I entered this world and I would never want anything to jeopardize that."

As she spoke Harleen's expression closed down, becoming a carefully neutral mask, and she started to let go of Hermione's hands. Before she could, Hermione tightened her grip, using that hold to pull the startled girl closer.

"I'm not finished," she whispered. Brilliant green eyes stared searchingly into her own cinnamon irises for a moment, studying her carefully. After several long breaths Harleen slowly nodded for Hermione to continue and the bushy haired witch offered a small, nervous smile before she took a deep breath and continued.

"Since I sat by your bed in the Hospital Wing Monday night I've been… I've been fighting with myself. A part of me, a really huge part of me, kept telling me to make a move on you. Ask you out, let you know I was interested at least… but I've been scared."

Harleen's head tilted to one side in confusion. "Is that what all these arguments have been about? Because you were scared? Scared of what?"

Sheepishly, Hermione nodded her head. "There are just so many things that could go wrong, and really, the idea of us not working as a couple, and possibly ruining the friendship that we have… that terrifies me."

She forced herself to look up, meeting Harleen's eyes again.

"You're the only thing that's made being here bearable. I was ready to write to my parents and ask them to pull me out of school the night you saved me from that troll. I couldn't bear it if we didn't work and I ended up losing the best friend I've ever had."

Harleen's face took on a considering expression, her brow furrowed, lips pursed in thought. Finally, her expression cleared and she offered a small smile.

"I can't explain why, but I feel confident that I _can_ promise that as long as we talk, as long as we work together and support each other, there's no way that we _won't _work out. And if, for some reason, we didn't, you're far too important to me to ever lose your friendship."

"You can't really know that," Hermione whispered.

"I do. I know that to be absolutely true, I promise you," Harleen insisted.

Hermione huffed, frowning at Harleen's sudden and uncharacteristic optimism. Not that Harleen was normally a pessimist, but her absolute confidence was certainly out of the norm.

_Though, with what she knows that she still hasn't told me, I guess I can't really rely on what's _'normal'_ for her. Not anymore,_ she thought.

"Hermione, do you trust me?"

She blinked, startled out of her thoughts by the sound of Harleen's voice and she focused her attention on the other girl again.

"Of course I do. I trust you with my life, Harleen."

"Then trust me on this? We _can_ work. If you don't _want_ to be with me, that's fine. It'll hurt, but I won't let that ruin our friendship. But if you do, if you want us to be more as badly as I do… please just… take a chance."

_I _do_ want you,_ Hermione thought, worry warring with desire. _I've wanted to be with you for so long already and couldn't and now there's really a chance we could… what the hell is wrong with me?! _

Taking a deep breath, Hermione resolved to shove aside her worries and take a page out of Harleen's new book. More than anything, where the beautiful girl in front of her was concerned, she wanted to be selfish.

"Okay."

The word slipped past her lips as the barest of whispers, almost inaudible, but the two girls were sitting so close, their faces only inches apart, that Harleen heard her clearly.

Harleen's eyes widened behind her glasses, the brilliant green of her irises sparkling in the light from the fire.

"Okay?" she breathed back hesitantly. It almost hurt Hermione to hear it. There was a naked longing in her tone and a sense of disbelief, as if she couldn't comprehend what the brunette witch had just said.

Resolutely, Hermione nodded her head.

"Okay," she repeated. "I'm… I'm terrified. I'm worried this will all blow up in my face, or that I'll wake up and it will all have been a dream but… I can't pretend I don't want this. I've been trying to give you space to adjust since you changed. I felt as if I would have been taking advantage of you if I'd tried anything or said anything. You've made your wishes very clear, Harleen Potter, and I'm done trying to argue with you and with myself."

She lifted one hand to cup Harleen's cheek, letting her thumb brush across the other girl's soft skin as her mind catalogued every detail she was able to process. The feel of her skin and warmth of her body seemed to stand out sharply in Hermione's awareness.

Leaning forward, she could hear the other girl's breath as it hitched in her throat. Before she could lose her nerve. Hermione shifted closer and gently pressed their lips together.

Absently, Hermione realized that the thought she'd had the day she first met Harry Potter held true now, just as it did then, her life was never going to be the same again.


	11. What I'm Fighting For

**Author's Notes: The Rotten Writer here once again, ladies and gentlemen with another chapter. So life has calmed down a little bit. A LITTLE bit. For those waiting on my other story updates I AM still working on them, I really am, just they're a lot more complex than this story is and complex is just not easy to deal with with how everything has been. On the plus side, working on this relatively simple little story has made things a little easier and I HAVE been making progress on other things as well, just slower than I'd like but I'm getting there. **

**So for this chapter WARNING: FLUFF AHEAD! You have been warned. This one has some pretty tooth rotteningly sweet moments. I enjoyed them. I think I needed some nice sweet moments after everything that's been going on so that might have influenced me a bit. There is some actual development and moving forward and next chapter should pick up the pace quite a bit.**

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise, the world, or characters. **

**Without further ado I give you Chapter 11 of A Fair Life! Enjoy.  
**

A Fair Life

What I'm Fighting For

by,

Rtnwriter

"Why was Ron there?"

Harleen blinked several times and looked up from where she was leaning comfortably against Hermione's side. The two girls were still sitting closely together on the small sofa in the Room of Requirement, nearly two hours after their previous discussion had ended. She wasn't entirely certain what to call the girl next to her. Were they girlfriends now? Did it really matter? Despite being mentally seventeen years old she didn't exactly have a great deal of experience with relationships.

In the end, Harleen decided that as long as Hermione had agreed that the two of them wanted to be together, labels were secondary to that.

"Why was Ron where?" she finally asked, unconsciously squirming her way closer to the other girl, her head resting on Hermione's shoulder.

"In the nightmare that you had last night," Hermione clarified. "You said Ron was there, in the cell with you, but in the story you told me of that year, he was gone before we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor."

Harleen felt her face twisting up into a grimace and she lifted her head, directing a half-hearted glare at the other girl. A single glance told her that Hermione wasn't going to let that question go.

Sighing, she sat up, reluctantly, and turned to more fully face her friend. "It was just a nightmare," she said.

"How can you say that for certain?" Hermione shot back, almost before the sentence had been completed. "You've had visions of what Voldemort is doing and then dreams with these memories getting dumped into your head. Is it at all possible that this nightmare could be another dream like that? I think Divination is a woolly subject at best but there _are_ actual Seers in the world. Could you have some touch of Seer ability?"

Harleen blinked again in surprise. That thought had never occurred to her and she didn't know how she hadn't considered that Hermione might think of that possibility. Maybe because of her well known disdain for all things divination she hadn't even considered it amongst the possibilities?

Mentally she shook herself free of her thoughts and focused her attention again.

"No, love," she murmured softly. "I'm fairly certain it was just a nightmare. There were a lot of elements in it that didn't make sense and overall it just didn't have the same feel that either the vision or the memory dump had. I'm certain it was just my mind conjuring up things to terrify me."

"What do you mean? What elements?" Hermione insisted.

"Well... compared to what I remember there were differences in the events that happened. Sequence of events, people involved, and so on. Ron being there. The fact that after we got upstairs I was frozen and unable to help you. When Bellatrix pulled the knife on you… The biggest difference was that I was a girl in the nightmare but in my memories, I was still a boy." She shrugged. "I'm certain it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Losing you, you getting hurt, that's absolutely the greatest fear I have anymore. I'm not certain that my boggart would be a Dementor anymore, to be perfectly honest."

Hermione's expression slowly changed to one of cautious relief and she nodded slowly to herself. "So it was really just a nightmare?" she pressed.

Smiling softly, Harleen leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the other girl's lips. "Just a nightmare, love, I promise. If I ever have another vision or dream like I did Sunday night, I swear I'll tell you at the first possible opportunity."

Though she seemed relieved, the focused expression on Hermione's face told Harleen that that was not the extent of what was on the bushy haired witch's mind, so she did her best to wait patiently for her to continue.

"I'm worried about what needs to be changed and how much we should actually change things in the first place."

Harleen found herself cocking her head to one side in confusion as she considered the other witch. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well… what would happen if we exposed Crouch Jr, for example? Tonight, we expose him and he's captured. If he's not around then he can't turn the trophy in the third task into a portkey and if that method of getting at you is taken away then what will Vodemort do? We'd have no way to predict how he might try to come after you and he might surprise us before we could be ready. Right now we want to change things to save the maximum possible number of people but the more we change, the less we'll be able to predict what's coming and then we'll be right back where you were in your memories, moving in the dark with no idea what to expect or when."

Harleen knew that her mouth was hanging open by the time Hermione finished speaking. She was aware that she probably had a gobsmacked expression on her face as well, but she couldn't organize her thoughts enough to respond at first. Slowly, her expression darkened even as her thoughts began to spin.

"Fuck!"

"Harleen! Language!"

Harleen didn't say anything in response to Hermione's sharp admonition, she simply stood and started pacing angrily back and forth in front of the fireplace, both hands pressed to her head.

"God dammit!" she snapped. "This is just as bad as Dumbledore's fucking scavenger hunt! Give me the bare minimum of information and hope I don't fuck up and get everyone-"

"Harleen!"

"-killed, just like last time! I screwed everything up before. I didn't know what the hell I was doing and I just got people hurt or killed. I'm supposed to be changing things but how can I do that if it'll just mean different people die? If I save Cedric is Luna going to die-"

"Harleen Potter!"

"-instead? Or Sirius again? Or you? I can't do that, Hermione. Dammit, why am I stuck playing God? Why is it always up to me to-"

Harleen's voice was suddenly muffled when she found a set of strong arms wrapped around her and a soft pair of lips covered her own. Her body went rigid at first at the unexpected contact. It took several tense seconds before she relaxed slightly and found herself kissing back, her arms lowering to wrap around Hermione's neck.

Slowly, the other girl pulled back and Harleen's eyes fluttered open to gaze into bright cinnamon irises.

"Are you calmer now?" Hermione whispered and Harleen found herself nodding, her fingers idly playing with the other girl's wild curls.

"Wish I'd thought to do that when you were rambling," she admitted.

Hermione gave her a soft smile.

"It probably wouldn't have worked as well at that time."

Harleen nodded, silently allowing that Hermione was probably right before her brow creased into a frown.

"What am I supposed to do?" she moaned. "I thought I was supposed to change things-"

"We," Hermione interrupted her. "We _will_ change things, not just you. We just need to be careful about it."

Stepping back, Hermione pulled Harleen's arms from around her neck and led the shorter girl back toward the sofa. She sat down and before Harleen could sit beside her, Hermione used the grip she had on the other girl's hands to pull Harleen down into her lap.

"What?" Hermione asked after seeing the surprised expression on Harleen's face.

"I… honestly, I don't think I've ever sat in someone's lap before. Always been the other way around."

"Had a lot of girls in your lap, have you?"

Harleen felt her cheeks flush. "N-no!" she stammered before a giggle caught her attention and she turned her head, her eyes narrowing at the amused expression on Hermione's face.

"It's not nice to tease me," she grumbled.

"Maybe not," Hermione admitted. "But it _is_ funny."

Harleen let out an annoyed huff and crossed her arms over her chest, sitting stiffly in the other girl's lap.

"Oh, don't pout. Come here."

She put up some resistance as Hermione's arms came around her and gently pulled her closer. Resistance that lasted all of a handful of seconds before she felt her body relaxing into Hermione's embrace until they were pressed closely together.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Hermione murmured quietly, one of her hands rubbing gently up and down Harleen's back. "I just wanted to point out that right now we have a rough idea of what we can expect to happen over the next few months but if we go changing things too much, we'll lose that advantage. We have to be careful of what we change and how we do it. Anything we do can't have too dramatic an effect, hopefully, or we'll be flying blind again."

"Just goes to prove how much I need you," Harleen pointed out, thrilled when Hermione flushed and shyly looked away. "You're brilliant in a way I could never be, no matter how hard I tried, Hermione, and it's just one of the things that I love about you."

Turning Hermione's face back toward her by way of a gentle grasp of the other girl's chin, Harleen ducked her head and gently kissed her again.

"Most people don't much care for my intelligence," Hermione muttered after they broke the kiss.

"Most people are idiots," Harleen pointed out. "I know I haven't always shown that I appreciate how smart you are, but I'd be dead at least a half a dozen times over by now if it wasn't for you and your brilliance. Now… can I assume that you have some kind of plan for what we should do?"

Hermione nodded and sat up a little straighter, pulling Harleen tighter against her, much to the other girl's delight, and her face took on a serious expression as she began to voice her thoughts.

"Less of a plan and more an idea of what we should be working toward," Hermione admitted. "But from what you've told me, I think this year is our best opportunity to try to get rid of Voldemort with the least amount of deaths."

"How so?"

"We know where he'll be on a specific date. If we can interrupt or change the ritual you were talking about we can do a lot of damage. Or, if we can get Madam Bones on board, maybe she can have a team of Aurors meet them there and they could possibly capture Pettigrew at the same time. That would help Sirius immensely."

Harleen nodded thoughtfully. "True. Okay, so what are you thinking?"

"We need to get those other horcruxes destroyed, and right now we know that Sirius can get access to two of them without too much trouble. Well… one for sure, the other is only a possibility, but it's still better than the alternative."

"Which ones?" Harleen asked. "Only one I can think of is the locket. That one he should be able to get ahold of, no problem, but what's the other?"

"Hufflepuff's cup. You said that Bellatrix has it in her vault. Well you also mentioned that she was a Black before her marriage. If Sirius is the Head of House Black, or if he can take on the title, he might be able to work with the goblins to get the cup, or even let them destroy it, he wouldn't have to go anywhere near the vault, possibly."

Harleen blinked several times in surprise and simply stared at her girlfriend for several moments.

"Why didn't we think of that in the future?" she wondered aloud. "Wait. How do you even know that?"

Hermione shrugged. "I've no idea why it didn't occur to us in these memories of yours. As far as how I know, well, I've been looking into the whole Head of House thing since you mentioned it. I found a couple of books in the library, though not nearly as much material as I'd like for comparison."

Harleen didn't even try to hold back a small smile at the frustration in Hermione's voice. If there was one thing the girl hated it was when her precious Library failed her in some way. Harleen would have to work on her in regard to that. Not everything could be found in the Library, some things simply needed to be experienced to truly learn them.

"Okay, so Sirius can probably destroy two of the horcruxes fairly soon. Maybe he could manage three of them if he goes after the Gaunt family ring as well. There's a curse on that one though that nearly killed Dumbledore in our sixth year. I don't know that I like the idea of Sirius going after it alone."

Hermione nodded, chewing absently on her bottom lip as she thought.

"I know you don't trust him, and for good reason," she began hesitantly, "but what would you say to including Dumbledore in some of this?"

Harleen's initial reaction was to snap at her about the old man, but she bit her tongue and reminded herself that, first of all, there was no reason to snap at Hermione and, secondly, she herself had said several times that she wanted to be able to work with the Headmaster, she just needed to see some changes in his behavior. So, instead of any sharp words, she took several deep breaths and slowly let them out before speaking.

"How do you mean?" she asked as calmly as she could. The way Hermione was gently rubbing her back told her that the other girl had felt the tension that ran through her body at the mention of the aged wizard, however.

"You might not like the idea, but you said it yourself, he _is_ a brilliant and powerful wizard. As much as we don't trust him, we _can_ trust that he might have some skills or knowledge to impart that could help. This person that you spoke to, the one in that office, did he say that only you and I could do anything about this whole situation? Did he say you had to do it all alone?"

Harleen shook her head. "No," she admitted. "In fact, he specifically told me that I needed to lose the whole 'lone hero' mentality and do it double quick. He said that I needed help, I needed allies and that there was no way that I could do this alone."

"Then why don't we try to get Dumbledore to help us?"

Harleen shook her head. "I don't want him taking over and dictating what I do and how I do it. Not again. Not anymore."

"That's understandable but you realize that you have the power to run things and he can't do anything to interfere, right?"

Harleen sat up slightly, giving the girl under her a dumbfounded look.

"How do you figure that?" she asked.

Hermione's smile was damn near predatory and Harleen felt a shiver run up her spine at the sight of it.

"You tell him you know about the horcruxes, and the prophecy. You know how many horcruxes he made, you know where they are and what they are. You tell him that he is going to work _with_ you, or you can just walk away and leave the wizarding world to fend for itself."

"But I'd never do that!" Harleen blurted out.

"I know that, and you know that, and really, Dumbledore probably knows that too. But can he really afford to take that risk? Say you did mean it. If he tried to pull any of what he's done in the past, he could alienate you from what he sees as your destiny or fate or whatever you want to call it. I very much doubt that he'll willingly take that risk if he can possibly avoid it.

"In this case, the wizarding world needs you far more than you need them. Dumbledore needs you more than you need him, and he knows it. He can't control your life anymore. As good as his intentions might have been, he could have created a monster worse than Voldemort by putting you with your relatives. You could have ended up hating muggles entirely and been just as twisted and dark. It's a miracle that you're as kind and caring as you are after everything you've been through."

As was usually the case whenever Harleen received compliments or praise she blushed and shifted her weight nervously for a moment before brushing past the comments without acknowledging them.

"What about the tournament? If I don't compete I lose my magic."

"You can wait until after the tournament to leave but let Dumbledore know you'll do it. Or maybe just come back for the tasks themselves."

"Okay, I think I see your point. As much as I hate it, technically, this is _my_ war. For some reason I'm the only one that can kill Voldemort, so that puts me in a position with a great deal of leverage. Dumbledore is welcome to help or offer advice, but he'll just need to get used to the idea that I won't be following his orders anymore. He'll be wondering how I know these things, but really it might do him some good to learn how it feels to be left in the dark."

She paused in her ruminations for a moment.

"Is that petty of me?" she asked, turning her focus back to Hermione who simply smiled gently at her.

"Maybe a little bit, but I can't say that he doesn't deserve it, not after what he's done."

"How long do I hold it against him though?" Harleen pressed. "I mean, I can't hold this over his head for the rest of his life. I shouldn't either. He really did have good intentions, as much as I hate what happened because of that. He's not evil or anything."

"And as you said, the road to hell is paved with good intentions," Hermione pointed out, pulling Harleen closer as she spoke until the smaller girl's head was resting on her shoulder again. "You can forgive him next week or never, that's entirely up to you. Don't worry right now about trying to decide when you should let things go. You were the one he hurt the most with the mistakes he's made, so it's up to you and no one else when you decide that you're willing to forgive him. You don't have to forgive him to be able to work with him."

"Something to worry about later, then," Harleen muttered. "We've wandered off topic though, haven't we?"

"Which topic was that?"

"What do I- what do _we_ do now?" Harleen said. "We need to change things, but if we change too much then what I remember becomes useless."

From her position in the other girl's lap, with her head resting on Hermione's shoulder, Harleen could see a small, contemplative frown furrow her brow.

"You weren't wrong earlier when you said that most of it could wait a bit. I think for most of it that's what we need to do, play a bit of a waiting game. I think you should write to Sirius, let him know that we need to talk to him. There may be time, but the sooner we get him hunting for the locket and speaking to the goblins about the cup, the better. We can probably hold off on the ring until we get a chance to think it over a bit more."

"Did you plan on writing to your parents anytime soon?" Harleen asked.

"I was going to finish up a letter that I've been working and send it tomorrow actually. Why?" Hermione responded, one brow arched curiously.

"If you could finish your letter after dinner, we could send it off tonight with Hedwig and I'll use a school owl to send a letter to Sirius. Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, we could meet him at the Shrieking Shack or something. I think this is a discussion best had in person."

That was something Hermione could agree to entirely and she nodded happily before glancing at the watch on her wrist.

"It's about time for dinner now," she pointed out in a surprised tone. Harleen couldn't help but agree. The day had passed them by without her really noticing the passage of time. To be fair to them both, there had been a lot of surprises and revelations throughout the course of the day that had occupied much of their attention. Harleen felt the whole discussion had gone about as well as it possibly could have, so she was happy with losing an entire day to the very necessary conversation.

"Were you…" Harleen trailed off and cleared her throat, nervous tension suddenly filling her frame as a new thought occurred to her that she hadn't yet considered. "Umm… were you planning on telling your parents about me? About… about us, I mean?"

She watched as Hermione chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip for a few seconds.

"I don't think I will, to be perfectly honest. Not in a letter. I haven't even told them about me yet, and I think I'd rather have that discussion in person as well." She shifted her eyes to meet Harleen's gaze. "I did tell them in this letter about the boy I've been writing to them about since first year actually being a girl, and I asked if you could come to stay with us over the Christmas break."

Harleen was a little surprised to hear that.

"You would have to have written that before we got together," she pointed out to which Hermione nodded her bushy head, smiling softly.

"I've wanted to invite you over for a long time now," she admitted. "Introducing my parents to my best friend would have been wonderful." Hermione leaned in and pressed a kiss to Harleen's cheek. "Introducing them to my girlfriend and spending Christmas together will be even better."

Harleen briefly thought that if her smile grew any wider her cheeks were going to start hurting, before she lunged forward and sealed her lips to Hermione's, drawing her girlfriend into the most heated kiss they'd shared yet as she attempted to express what words wouldn't be able to properly convey.

Once they broke away from each other, each girl flushed and slightly breathless, Hermione cupped Harleen's face with both hands, looking directly into her bright green eyes. "I'm not ashamed to be with you. I wouldn't hide our relationship from my parents, the three of you are the most important people in the world to me."

"It's most everyone else that will be a problem," Harleen replied, instantly seeing were Hermione was going with her thought process.

"Exactly. I don't _want_ to hide what we have, but I think we might need to, for a while at least."

"I understand, love," Harleen assured her. "Don't worry about that. But do you understand that it won't stay a secret for long? This _is_ Hogwarts, and I'm one of the most famous witches in the world. People are always going to be curious about me. What I'm doing, who I'm with, and so on. It's going to come out sooner than later."

"I know, but for a little while I'd like to have you all to myself without having to worry about everyone else."

Harleen quirked a small grin.

"Little possessive, aren't you?"

Hermione's grip on Harleen's face tightened slightly and she found herself being pulled into a fierce, almost harsh, kiss. The sensation sent her pulse racing as she seemed to lose all ability to breathe.

"You'd better believe it, Potter," Hermione hissed after she pulled back again. "We've waited long enough for this. All worries aside, I intend to enjoy every minute we have together, and the rest of the world is just going to have to get used to the fact that you're mine now, and I don't share… Are you okay with that?"

Harleen managed to shake off the dazed stupor brought on by her girlfriend's lips in time to hear the question and she took a moment to consider it. If she was honest with herself, the sudden shift in Hermione's behavior was a little startling, but further thought told her she shouldn't have been surprised. This was Hermione Granger. Most people probably considered her to be somewhat boring, or perhaps tame, with her love for books and rules.

Harleen knew better. This was the same girl that had set fire to one of their professors in first year. This was the same girl that had brewed polyjuice potion in a bathroom in their second year. She broke the laws of time in their third year, supported Harleen through their fourth year, and in fifth year tricked a Ministry official into nearly walking to their death at the hands of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest before joining in on the battle at the Ministry.

She hit Harleen in the face with a stinging hex to try to hide her identity without a moment's hesitation. She endured torture. She helped break into Gringotts and then escaped on the back of a dragon!

Yes, Hermione Granger could be absolutely ruthless and focused when she wanted to be and anyone that underestimated her did so at their own peril. To have that well hidden side of her best friend directed at _her_, with Harleen as the object that this girl would so fiercely covet as her own… that was a somewhat heady realization.

Slowly, she lifted one hand, placing it over Hermione's own where both still rested on her cheeks, smiling softly at her girlfriend.

"Am I okay with you being possessive of me?" she asked before her smile turned into a small smirk. "I have to admit, I'm strangely comfortable with it."

She leaned in to press a quick peck of a kiss to Hermione's mouth.

"Gods, I will never get tired of doing that," she breathed against the other girl's lips. Reluctantly, she forced herself to back up and climb off of Hermione's lap, turning to hold one hand out to her. "Right now though, it's dinner time and I am absolutely starved. Let's go eat."

#####

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Merlin's beard, what the hell were you thinking?_

Hermione was doing her best not to have a complete meltdown as she and her new girlfriend made their way through the castle toward the Great Hall. In the last twelve hours or so her entire world had been flipped on its head and she was finding it to be a bit of a struggle to regain her equilibrium.

The extra years' worth of memories that her best friend now possessed, the supposed fate the girl had hanging over her head, the full revelation of Harleen's feelings for her, and their much changed relationship. It was all a bit much to try to take in all at once and she felt as if she was spinning out of control.

_And then you had to go and act like a crazy person!_ she silently berated herself.

_Didn't seem as if she really minde__d t__hough._

Hermione ignored that little voice in the back of her head as it whispered to her once again, her focus directed more at her actions in the Room of Requirement. She really wasn't sure exactly why she'd done it. Just the thought of all the people that would be poking their noses into their lives once it became known that Harleen was dating her… something deep inside her had railed against the idea and she'd simply reacted.

_Since when are you the possessive type, anyway?_ she wondered. _And to practically attack her like that!_

Groaning internally she glanced at Harleen out of the corner of her eye where the girl was walking next to her, a contemplative expression on her face.

_She really didn't seem to mind at all,_ she reminded herself. _She's so used to being the fighter, the protector, maybe it's a relief to her to have someone act that way about her? Or maybe she was just humoring you._

Hermione winced and looked away as they reached the doors to the Great Hall and Harleen paused, her eyes scanning over the crowded room.

_Worry about it later, Granger,_ she thought.

"Love? Think you could do me a favor?"

"What is it?" Hermione turned away from the Hall to focus on her girlfriend, wondering just what the girl was up to now.

"We need allies, right? More than that, making new friends is rarely a bad thing."

Hermoned nodded, her bushy curls bouncing around her head. "True. What were you thinking?"

"Could you see if you could talk Cedric into eating with us at the Ravenclaw table? I think it might be a good idea to try to get the champions together."

_Not a bad idea at all,_ Hermione thought with a glance to the Hufflepuff table where Cedric was easy enough to spot, surrounded by a circle of his housemates. _But…_

"What about Krum?" she asked. "He's at the-"

"I'll go talk to Viktor while you're talking to Cedric," Harleen stated firmly. "The Slytherins aren't going to start anything in a crowded Hall. Even if they did, if Malfoy or any of his type start spouting their usual garbage it might show Viktor the kind of people he's dealing with. He can decide for himself who he wants to spend his time with."

Hermione chewed worriedly on her lip. "I don't like the idea of you going over there alone," she admitted and Harleen gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'm not looking for a confrontation. If I go over there with backup then that's what it'll look like. Trust me, I'll be fine."

Hermione couldn't help but hesitate for a moment longer before she finally nodded again. "Alright," she said. "But be careful, please."

As she started walking toward the Slytherin table, Harleen shot her a grin over her shoulder. "Hey, it's me," she said, to which Hermione let out an indelicate snort.

"That's exactly what worries me!" she called after the girl's retreating back. Shaking her head in mild exasperation, Hermione hurried over to the Hufflepuffs.

"Cedric?" she asked as she approached, causing the older student to turn toward her.

"Hermione? Hey, how's it going? Where's Harr- I mean, Harleen?" Cedric asked, stumbling slightly over Harleen's name but she felt he recovered quickly.

"Things are going well. It's been a busy day actually. Harleen is over trying to talk to Viktor Krum at the moment."

Cedric blinked, a blank look settling over his handsome features before quickly shifting to an expression of genuine concern. He stood, his eyes moving toward the Slytherin table.

"What's she doing that for?" he asked.

"She wants to invite all the champions to eat dinner together at the Ravenclaw table. So she's inviting Krum and I'm here to invite you."

Cedric looked back at her in surprise.

"Really?'

Hermione nodded. "Just because our schools are competing doesn't mean we can't be friendly, right?"

Cedric seemed to consider that, nodding thoughtfully to himself. A moment later he looked around at his friends. "I'll catch up with you guys later," he told them as he grabbed his plate and stepped over the bench. "Well?" he asked when Hermione didn't immediately start toward Ravenclaw. "Where are we going to be sitting?"

"Oh! Oh, sorry, you just surprised me," she admitted as they moved together toward their new seats. "I thought it would take more than that to convince you, to be honest."

Cedric let out an amused chuckle. "Hufflepuff," he reminded her with a smile that bared two rows of perfectly straight, white teeth.

"Great timing!"

Hermione couldn't stop a small smile from turning up her lips as Harleen's voice reached her ears and she turned to find her girlfriend approaching them with the Durmstrang Champion following along behind her in his awkward, duck footed kind of gait.

Viktor Krum was scowling, but Hermione couldn't tell if he was actually upset about something or if that was simply his default expression. She briefly remembered that he'd worn nearly the same sour expression in the posters of him that they'd seen at the World Cup. _Probably a normal look for hi__m t__hen,_ she decided.

Walking up to her, Harleen looped her right arm around Hermione's left and pulled her along the rest of the way to the Ravenclaw table. It was strange. Walking arm-in-arm that way wasn't something new. She and Harry had done it on occasion, something they usually seemed to do without any real thought, but it had never in the past felt like it did now. Perhaps it was their new relationship in the back of her mind, but for some reason that simple gesture felt much more intimate than it ever had in the past and Hermione couldn't help but feel a thrill pass through her.

Harleen drew to a stop beside the table, across from where the absolutely gorgeous French champion was sitting, a curious expression on her face as she watched them.

"Miss Delacour," Harleen asked. "Would you mind if we sat with you?"

The blonde witch blinked slowly, her head tilting minutely to one side.

"I do not mind," she said in her softly accented English.

"Excellent!" Harleen said, beaming a wide smile. "Mister Krum, did you want to sit here or by Miss Delacour?"

"Here is fine," Viktor said and took a seat on the bench while Cedric moved around the table to sit beside Fleur.

Once they were all seated and had full plates in front of them Harleen started to speak.

"First, I think proper introductions are in order." She rose slightly from the bench and reached across the table to shake Fleur's hand. "Harleen Potter," she said. "This is my very best friend, Hermione Granger. We're both fourth years in Gryffindor."

Her actions spurred the others on and they quickly introduced themselves, shaking hands all around. Cedric was grinning broadly while Krum continued to scowl and Fleur looked slightly bemused.

Rather quickly, they fell into pleasant enough conversation, discussing their schools, life in their home countries, and other such topics as they went. The discussion was rather organic, flowing naturally from one topic to another without much actual direction and Hermione found herself delighted to learn more about Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, though Viktor didn't really talk much.

Near the end of the meal, Fleur caught their attention.

"'Arleen?" she asked, causing the named girl to look up from where she was discussing quidditch tactics with Viktor to focus her attention on the blonde sitting across from her.

"Yes?"

"Not zat I am not grateful zat you all decided to come sit wiz me, but I have to ask, 'why'?"

"Why sit with you? Or why would you be grateful for the company?" Harleen asked, grinning impishly.

"Why sit wiz me," Fleur clarified, laughing softly. "We are all rivals, no?"

"No."

All three of the older champions blinked in surprise at Harleen's quick response.

"Okay… I'm going to need a translation on that, Harleen," Cedric admitted. "I thought we _were_ rivals."

"I'm not sure I agree with that, at least not the wording."

"What do you mean?" Cedric asked, his focus directed at Harleen.

Harleen set her fork down and leaned back from the table slightly, her arms crossed over her chest. "Let me start with a question, if you don't mind. What is the purpose of this tournament?"

"Eet ees to prove which school ees better, no?" Fleur asked in a puzzled tone after several seconds of silence passed by them.

"But that doesn't really make sense," Harleen argued. "One person does not represent the entirety of what a school has to offer, do they? Whoever wins, that doesn't prove that their school is better, only that that individual did better in the tasks."

"Dumbledore said that the tournament was meant to 'foster international friendships' or something like that," Cedric mused thoughtfully.

Harleen grinned. "Exactly," she said. "So, to answer your question, Fleur, I don't think that we are, or should be, rivals. Personally, I think 'competitors' is a better word to use, and I don't see any reason why we can't compete against each other and still be friends at the same time."

"Eizer way, we are competing for ze 'onor of our school, are we not? Wouldn't people zink zat we are betraying our schools to be friends wiz our competitors?"

"Is that why you put your name in?" Hermione asked. "Is it for your school that you decided you wanted to try your hand at a dangerous, sometimes deadly, competition?"

Fleur fell silent.

"Why _did_ you put your names in?" Harleen asked. "All three of you, if you don't mind my asking, I'm curious what could make you want to risk your lives like this."

Hermione found herself intensely curious as well. She hadn't really considered the 'why' beyond the obvious, notoriety and a cash prize. She now found herself wondering if there were any other, perhaps more personal, motivations behind them putting their names forward to compete.

"I am famous."

Hermione blinked in surprise and turned to look past Harleen at the Bulgarian sitting on her other side.

"I am famous and most people know me only for playing Quidditch. They… dismiss me when I speak of subjects other than brooms or snitches." Viktor's scowl became more pronounced as he shook his head. "In my country, ve have many small villages, not enough Aurors for all troubles.

"We have Home Guard to help. Is like militia, the Home Guard protect the people. My father is part of Guard and he has taught me many things while growing up. I wish to prove that there is more to me than simply catching snitch. I wish to prove my father's teachings, make him proud."

As he finished speaking, Hermione found herself momentarily surprised by the depths the surly Bulgarian apparently held. Along with that realization came a small hint of shame as it became clear to her that she had been doing exactly the same thing as everyone else, dismissing him as being little more than a sports star and for a sport that she didn't particularly like either.

"We seem to have more in common than I might have expected, Viktor," Cedric cut in before anyone else had a chance to speak. "Most people consider my school House to be the House of Duffers. Not cunning enough for Slytherin. Not smart enough for Ravenclaw. Not brave enough for Gryffindor. We're the leftovers, the dregs."

He let out a long sigh and folded his hands on the table in front of him, a frown marring his face. "I wanted to prove to myself, and to my House, especially the younger students, that a Hufflepuff could be just as good as the rest. I want them to see that we can succeed just like the other Houses. Hufflepuff has been known as the House for the leftovers for so long that some of them are actually starting to believe it. I am hoping to give them a reason to be proud to be a Hufflepuff."

Fleur delicately set her fork down on the edge of her plate and wiped her mouth with her napkin once Cedric finished speaking and four pairs of eyes swiveled toward her.

"I suppose eet ees only fair zat I share as well," she sighed, "zough I believe my reasons may require some explanations first. Eet ees possibly no surprise to you zat I am Veela, no?"

Hermione blinked, in fact _very_ surprised to hear that, or maybe, more surprised to learn that Ron, in all his uncouth pratishness, had been correct when he asserted that the girl had to be at least part Veela. By their expressions neither Cedric or Viktor were at all shocked and she assumed that Harleen must have already known.

"Because I am Veela I am vairy beautiful."

Hermione was actually impressed that the older witch managed to say that without sounding arrogant. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that Fleur was right as well. She _was_, simply put, 'very beautiful'.

"Veela are known to be vairy… sensual beings," Fleur continued. "Most people see my kind as little more zan creatures to be owned or controlled. Zey assume we 'ave little to offer ozer zan our beauty. Most women are zreatened by me. Zey fear zat I will steal zere boyfriends or 'usbands, so zey do not want to be friends wiz me. Most men are affected by my allure, so I can never really be certain zat zey actually want to be my friend for _me_ and not simply because zey desire me."

"As terrible as that is, you know that competing in this tournament won't change that," Hermione pointed out as gently as she could.

Fleur nodded. "Oui, I understand zat. I just… I am tired of being seen as nozing more zan a potential toy or being viewed as an empty headed blonde. I am proud to be Veela, don't misunderstand me. I am proud of my heritage. But I am _more_ zan simply a Veela. I am a witch, and I want to show zat I have more to offer zan just a pretty face and body."

Silence fell over the five of them again as most of the food disappeared from the table and deserts replaced them.

"Looks like we each have something in common," Harleen commented, to which the three older students gave her a confused look. "All four of us have something to prove."

"But you didn't enter your name," Cedric pointed out. "You don't even want to be in the tournament, what could you have to prove?"

Hermione watched as Harleen played with her fork, a focused expression stealing over her face, her eyes sharp behind her glasses. When she spoke, she started slowly and the others unconsciously leaned forward to hear her better.

"People have been trying to kill me since I was only a year old," she said. "He came like a coward in the night, intent on killing a baby, and he failed. People celebrate me for defeating this powerful Dark Wizard even though absolutely no one knows what actually happened that night. At a year old, what could I have done against a wizard like that?" She shook her head. "Most likely it was something my mother did that let me survive that night. But since I came back to this world nearly everyone has had ridiculously high expectations of me.

"Whoever put my name in that goblet probably expects me, an untrained, underage witch, to die during the tasks. The tasks are supposed to be extremely dangerous. This tournament was originally abandoned because the death toll climbed too high, so they must not expect me to do very well. I intend to prove them wrong. I may not _want_ to be a part of this tournament, but now that I'm stuck with it, I intend to show them that they made a huge mistake by putting me in this thing. I intend to win, and this idiot is going to learn that they messed with the wrong girl."

#####

It was a frustrated Hermione Granger that lay in her bed that night, staring up at the ceiling of her canopy. She couldn't get the events at dinner out of her mind. The declaration that Harleen had made was important, she realized. With what they expected to happen during the third task, unless they could find a way around it, Harleen _needed_ to win. She needed to be there first, otherwise whoever beat her to the cup was in a great deal of danger.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to be researching through the days to help her girlfriend survive and succeed at the upcoming tasks, but the fact that Harleen refused to tell her what the first task consisted of was causing her no end of distress. Obviously the task was going to be dangerous if Harleen wouldn't tell her what it was. Her reasoning didn't help either.

'I don't want you to worry yourself needlessly,' she'd said. 'I beat her once before with almost no time to prepare, and even then I still completed the task in the fastest time and with the highest scores. I promise I'll do much better this time around.'

Harleen's assurances did absolutely nothing to assuage her worries and probably only succeeded in ratcheting up her concern for her girlfriend.

After her declaration that she intended to win the entire tournament the other champions had spent a few minutes ribbing each other, mostly claiming they would win with Fleur rather haughtily declaring that the boys would find themselves at a disadvantage. She seemed to feel that Cedric and Viktor would find themselves distracted by her and Harleen's combined beauty. Viktor had simply continued to scowl but Cedric and Harleen had both turned an interesting shade of red, something that sent the rest of them off into a laughing fit.

The rest of the evening had gone well enough. She and Harleen had sent off the letters they'd wanted to send and despite Harleen still refusing to answer her questions about the first task the rest of the night after returning to the Common Room had been spent sitting by the fire each of them with a book in hand and joined by Neville. The boy had sat near them, reading his own book without saying anything and it had been an interesting experience to Hermione to be able to simply sit with her friends and enjoy each other's company without a lot of noise or chaos.

Eventually, it began to get late and the three of them decided it was time to go to bed. They said goodnight to Neville at the bottom of the stairs and she and Harleen had headed up to their dorm.

Hermione suddenly flushed and turned in her bed, burying her face into her pillow. Once in the dorm things had become somewhat awkward. It hadn't really occurred to her that she was now sharing a living space with her girlfriend. Not like they were living _together_, but still, their interaction once alone had become… not strained but definitely nervous and uncertain.

A part of Hermione, that she really hadn't expected, wanted to be there when Harleen changed her clothes. She wanted to _see_ her girlfriend, all of her, and that sudden desire had hit her like the Hogwarts Express, causing her to flush brightly. She'd grabbed her own nightclothes and practically sprinted into the bathroom to change, leaving Harleen to either wait her turn or for her to change in the dorm.

She'd changed quickly, putting on a pair of soft pajamas in a light purple color and gathered together her clothes to place in the hamper by her bed. Her heart hammered in her chest, thinking with how fast she'd changed she might catch Harleen partly dressed but when she opened the door the other girl was in her own bed, curtains drawn, and Hermione could hear her moving around behind the hangings.

They'd said their goodnights, complete with a gentle kiss, and gone to their separate beds and now, hours later, Hermione was still awake as her mind cast back over everything she'd learned that day and everything that was waiting for them in the future. Tournament aside, it was going to be a very interesting school year.

#####

Warmth and safety.

Those two words perfectly defined the feelings coursing through Harleen's body when she woke Sunday morning. She felt rested. She felt calm. But more than anything else, she felt warm, and she felt safe. A brief reflection led her to the conclusion that she couldn't really remember the last time that she'd felt safe.

_Maybe yesterday, when Hermione held me on her lap. I think I felt pretty safe then, _she silently mused before she attempted to roll from her side onto her back. 'Attempted' was very much the word, however, as she found herself being held in place, a warm, solid presence at her back and she opened her eyes, blinking several times as she looked down with some confusion at the purple clad arm wrapped firmly around her middle.

_What in the…?_

Carefully, Harleen managed to turn around to find, as expected, Hermione lying in the bed beside her. The older witch had been spooned up against her back, the arm she'd previously noticed was still wrapped around her and she was once again smiling as she took in the peaceful, content expression on the bushy haired witch's face.

Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Harleen lifted her arm and brushed Hermione's hair back before she gently stroked the other girl's cheek.

"Hermione?" she said softly. "Hermione, wake up, love."

Hermione's brow furrowed and the arm wrapped around Harleen's body tightened, pulling her closer even as Hermione buried her face against Harleen's shoulder, causing the smaller girl to laugh.

"Come on, love, it's time to wake up," she spoke, still laughing softly as she let one hand stroke up and down Hermione's back.

"Don' wanna," came the muffled response against her shoulder and Harleen laughed harder. A moment later Hermione's head popped up, bleary eyed and with her hair flying wildly about her head to look around for a moment before her cinnamon irises locked with Harleen's bright green.

"Oh…" She trailed off, flushing brightly and began to back away until Harleen wrapped an arm around her and held her close.

"Not that I'm complaining, love," Harleen said, grinning wickedly at the older girl in her arms, "but I _did_ promise McGonagall that we wouldn't be getting up to anything we shouldn't be in the dorms. Did you want to make a liar out of me?"

"Professor McGonaga- wait… what?!"

Harleen flinched, startled by Hermione's sudden volume.

"You… you told Professor McGonagall? _What_ did you tell her?"

"Nothing major, really. Just… on Thursday, after the incident with Lavender when she asked you to leave her office so she could talk to me alone, she pointed out that Lavender didn't want to share a living space with someone that could potentially see her as… desirable, I guess. I basically had no choice but to tell her that I find girls attractive."

"That doesn't explain your comment," Hermione noted, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I'm getting there," Harleen assured her. "So, she did basically what you did and asked if it was possible that my preferences might change after spending more time being a girl again. I told her that wasn't going to happen and that there actually was a girl I was already very interested in, I just hadn't figured out quite how to approach her." Here she hugged Hermione tighter, both in an attempt to reassure the other girl as well as to indicate just _which_ girl she was talking about.

"She said that as long as I was sure then okay, basically, and then she said 'I do not recommend that you keep Miss Granger waiting for long'."

Harleen couldn't help but smile when Hermione's mouth dropped open and a soft giggle escaped her.

"That was almost my exact reaction, though I was drinking my potion at the time and I nearly spat it across her desk at her."

"W-wait… she knew?"

"She guessed," Harleen explained. "She thought that we might have just been uncommonly close friends but she said she'd been observing us since Monday and felt that there was possibly more there than just friendship and my reaction kind of proved her suspicions."

Hermione gaped for a moment longer, her eyes wide and her mouth still hanging open. Finally, she blinked and her mouth snapped shut,

"Okay… so not a topic I really want to consider, but that still doesn't explain your comment. What did you promise her? Why?"

Harleen flushed brightly and suddenly found one of Hermione's wild curls to be immensely fascinating, her eyes fixed on it as she toyed with it with one hand. She muttered something under her breath and winced as she could tell that Hermione wouldn't have been able to understand her.

"Hey, look at me." The arm wrapped around her waist moved and Harleen felt her chin being caught in a gentle grip. Her head was turned until their eyes met again. "There is absolutely no topic or subject that you can't talk to me about," Hermione whispered. "Even the ones that are embarrassing or uncomfortable. I would hope that the both of us would be comfortable being open with each other."

Harleen nodded hesitantly then softly cleared her throat. "It's just… well, she explained that the dorms are separated the way they are partly to help discourage couples from getting up to too much that they shouldn't be. But… uh… there's no.. I mean-"

"There's nothing to stop a couple of the same gender from exploring their relationship in privacy," Hermione cut her off, a note of sudden understanding in her voice and Harleen nodded, somewhat grateful to see that Hermione was now blushing just as brightly as she was.

"Right. The professor warned me that people wouldn't exactly be overjoyed if we were public with our relationship and I pointed out that we didn't exactly _have_ a relationship yet. Not at that time. That would be something for us to figure out and she got that look on her face."

Harleen laughed at the confused look Hermione then gave her.

"You know the look I'm talking about! That one that makes you feel about two inches tall and you just want to sink into the floor or disappear to escape it."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "Oh right, _that_ look." She grinned slyly. "Thankfully the only times I've really seen it she's been directing it at you."

"Hey! I'm not _that_ bad!"

"No, but you _have_ been in more trouble than I have."

Harleen grumbled under her breath and glared at her girlfriend for a moment, an action that only made Hermione laugh harder.

"Anyway," she continued, "she gave me that look then said that, once you and I figured our relationship out, could she trust that we wouldn't be using the dorms to get into any trouble."

"And of course you practically tripped over yourself to assure her that we'd be good girls."

"What did you want me to do! She's scary!"

"No, that was the right thing," Hermione admitted, much to Harleen's relief. "Though it also brings up a point that we haven't really discussed yet," she added, chewing nervously on her lower lip as she finished.

"What's that?" Harleen wondered. She watched in awe as a slew of different emotions flitted across Hermione's face for a few moments, impressed that one person could seem to feel so many different things in such a short span of time.

"It's just… we're… we're together now. We're a couple, in an actual relationship and there's… well, a-aside from the emotion, the fact that we-we care for each other there's… there's more to a relationship than just that and…"

Hermione trailed off, blushing more furiously than ever and looking anywhere _but_ at Harleen. For her part, Harleen could feel just how warm her own face was and knew she was blushing as well, but she did her best to shove that aside.

Reaching out she tangled her fingers in the mass of wild, untamed curls surrounding her girlfriends head and carefully tugged her into a gentle, undemanding kiss. Slowly, Hermione seemed to melt against her and their soft kiss became more heated. It wasn't long before lips parted and tongues brushed against each other in a hesitant caress that quickly grew in confidence on both their parts. Strong fingers tugged at Harleen's raven tresses, pulling a surprised groan from her lips. Hermione quickly took control of the kiss, pushing herself up onto one elbow as she simultaneously pushed Harleen onto her back in the center of the large bed.

A moment later Hermione pulled back and Harleen found herself looking up into her girlfriend's eyes from within the curtain of Hermione's wild mane as it fell forward, surrounding her in the scent of her vanilla shampoo. Both girls were breathing heavily and Harleen's eyes fixed on her girlfriend's mouth as the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her full lips.

"Okay…" Harleen panted, slowly pushing Hermione's hair back so she could see her better. "Okay, as much as I really, _really_ enjoyed that, and as much as I would love to continue, that wasn't exactly why I kissed you."

Hermione dipped her head to press another lingering kiss to Harleen's lips.

"Why did you kiss me, then?" she breathed.

Harleen paused, her thoughts well and truly scrambled after their brief snogging session, and the sudden realization that she could feel her girlfriend's breasts pressed against her own through their clothes. As such it took her a few seconds to gather her focus.

"It seems like you're worried about the… the more physical side of our relationship," she said, to which Hermione nodded hesitantly. "Well, I don't want to push you, I would never do that. So we'll keep things to whatever you are comfortable with. I would never want to do anything to hurt you. "

Hermione blinked several times, her face blank as she slowly pushed herself up until her arms were fully extended and she was looking down incredulously at Harleen.

"Uhh… Hermione?" she asked, the other girl's silence beginning to make her nervous. "Did... did I say something wrong?"

"Are you kidding me!" Hermione burst out, causing Harleen to flinch again in surprise at her sudden volume just before Hermione's arms bent as she dropped on top of Harleen and their mouths crashed together.

"Did you say something wrong?" she muttered as she lifted her head again. "Here you are, your entire life changed, something fundamental that you knew about yourself proven to be a lie, and you're worried about me?" She shook her head and Harleen could only offer a small smile in response.

"I just… I don't ever want you to regret being with me," she muttered. "I don't want to push you faster or more than you're ready for-"

"Harleen, just stop talking for a second, please, love," Hermione interrupted her and Harleen clamped her teeth shut with an audible click. She watched as Hermione stared back at her for several long moments, wondering just what was going on inside her brilliant mind.

"Are you honestly worried that I would break up with you or regret being with you if you let your hands wander a bit?"

Harleen opened her mouth, paused, then closed her mouth again and slowly nodded her head.

"Why? No… no, don't answer that. You've never had any good examples of a healthy relationship." Hermione let out a long sigh and dropped onto her side next to Harleen, her upper body propped up on one elbow and looked down at her. At least, that's what Harleen thought she was doing. She squinted in a vain effort to bring her girlfriend more into focus and a moment later she felt her glasses being pressed into her hand.

Gratefully she slipped them on and smiled at the crystal clear vision of the girl lying next to her.

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

Hermione smiled and reached out to brush aside Harleen's bangs, her fingers gently trailing over the scar on her forehead for a moment.

"I want to make one thing very clear to you, Harleen Potter," she whispered. "As much as I had my worries and doubts. As much as I'm still worried about what could happen if we failed as a couple, you need to understand that we would never fall apart over something so simple. If I ever asked you to stop doing something, would you?"

"Of course I would."

"Then there's nothing to worry about. In fact…" She trailed off for a moment, looking uncertain before her expression firmed and she continued. "In fact, I think I might be ready for more than you are, to be perfectly honest."

Harleen blinked in surprise at that, her lips parting to speak but nothing immediately came to mind as a possible response.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked.

"You haven't grown up with this body," Hermione pointed out. "There's so much that you are still adjusting to, still getting used to. Honestly, I _think_ you'll need quite a bit more time to settle before you're really ready for more than what we're already doing." The smile she gave Harleen then was bright and loving and by far the most beautiful the raven haired girl had ever seen her produce.

"My concern about that part of our relationship was actually about the fact that I think I want much more from you than you're probably ready for. Not to say that I'm ready for _everything_ myself. But I wanted to say that I would try my best not to push _you_ faster than you're ready to handle. I wanted you to know that all you ever have to do is tell me to stop and I don't ever want you putting aside your discomfort because you think I want something from you.

"I know you, Harleen, and I know that if I was making you uncomfortable you'd likely try to ignore it and go along with something just because you don't want to disappoint or upset me. I don't want you to do that. Tell me if you think things ever start going too far and I'll back off. I won't be upset with you either. Do you understand?"

Harleen considered that carefully for a minute, thankful that Hermione let her process in silence without pushing her before she responded.

"Not that I'm attempting to argue with you, but what makes you think I'm not ready for whatever you're thinking? Or, for that matter, what makes you think that you are?"

"Let me take those in reverse order. What makes me think I am ready for more? Remember I said that I've been dreaming about the girl version of you since third year?"

Harleen nodded.

"Well, not all of those dreams were of a variety I'd be comfortable discussing with my parents, for example."

Harleen knew she had a confused expression on her face and before she could give voice to that confusion Hermione clarified. "Similar to the dream you mentioned the morning Madam Pomfrey released you from the Hospital Wing."

Almost instantly Harleen felt her face warm and her jaw dropped open.

"You… you've had dreams like that… about _me_?" The last word came out as an embarrassing squeak but she couldn't really bring herself to care. She was just so shocked to learn that Hermione had thought of her in those terms.

"Girls think about sex just as much as guys do, you know. I've had nearly a year now with you in my head and considering some of what we could do together, even before I knew that girl I was dreaming about was really _you_," Hermione pointed out, a small smirk turning up one corner of her mouth.

"Aside from that, I think there's another aspect of things that you might not have taken into account."

"What's that?" Harleen asked, hoping to get her scattered emotions back under control.

"You had a health class in primary school, didn't you?"

"Yeah, what's that have to do with anything?"

"They discussed sex and reproduction and such?"

"Yeah, briefly."

"So you know, at least the basics, of what's involved with sex?"

"Well, yeah. I've also heard a few conversations in the dorms over the years, particularly in the later years that I remember. What's this about?"

Hermione shook her head. "Just bear with me a moment. So you know the basics, but tell me, what you know or what you were told or have heard was always a man with a woman, wasn't it?"

"...Yeah?"

"So would you say you know what is involved with sex between two women?"

Harleen opened her mouth and no words escaped, again, as she realized that she really _didn't_ know much about what actually was involved, the physical mechanics of it.

"I thought that might be the case."

Harleen turned her head as Hermione laid down the rest of the way beside her on the bed and she turned onto her side to more fully face her girlfriend.

"It's okay that you don't know. I'm not going to pretend that I know everything about it myself, but I have been looking into these things for a little while now, and I've learned that there's a lot more that two women can do together than I'd originally thought.

"You are still learning about your _own_ body right now, Harleen. You're still getting used to not having all the same parts that you used to have and that's going to take some time. We can take things as slow as we want to and that's perfectly fine."

She slid closer in the bed and wrapped one arm around Harleen's waist. "Look, let's stop discussing this right now. We're not in any kind of rush, are we? There's no deadline for when and how our relationship moves forward, is there?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Then we don't have to figure it all out right now. We can discuss it more as we go along. For now, though, we're both on the same page, right? We take things at our own pace, only as much or as far as we're each comfortable with."

Harleen nodded slowly.

"You know, this was really not what I was expecting to be discussing when I woke up to find you in bed with me earlier."

Harleen suddenly paused.

"Why _were_ you in bed with me anyway?" she asked. "Not that I mind at all. I felt fantastic when I woke up, actually. I'm just curious how that happened."

Hermione looked surprised by the question but quickly answered. "Oh! Well, you had another nightmare last night."

"I did?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. You woke me up and I came over to check on you. Instead of waking you up I decided to just try and hold you and you actually calmed down pretty quickly. I didn't mean to fall asleep again but… well, it felt nice, just holding you."

"I don't remember any nightmares. I honestly think that's the best night's sleep I've had in a long time." Harleen admitted the last rather shyly and Hermione pulled her even closer until Harleen's head was resting on the other girl's shoulder.

"Then I'm happy I was able to help you rest," she heard Hermione murmur quietly in her ear.

They were silent for some time after that, neither girl really willing to break the comfortable atmosphere that had settled over them. Eventually, however, Harleen heard Hermione speak up.

"I think I get it now, by the way."

Confused Harleen lifted her head and looked up at her girlfriend.

"What you were talking about in the Hospital Wing, how you felt when you were taller than me. I've always been protective of you. Always wanted you to be safe and happy. Holding you last night and like this now… that's a very different feeling. I've never felt… well, protective is really the only word, like you said. I've never felt it like this before and I have to agree with what you said. I really do like feeling this way when I hold you."

Smiling broadly, Harleen took her glasses off and set them aside before she burrowed her way closer to her girlfriend until their arms and legs were tangled together and she didn't think it was physically possible to get any closer than they already were.

Harleen knew they should probably get up. There was plenty for them to do. Plans to make, others that needed implementing, but right at that moment she was too happy, too content with where she was to move.

Silently she added another checkmark to her mental list of things that Reaper had been right about.

_He said that when soulmates were involved that humans had proven repeatedly that they would fight harder than ever to protect each other and the future they could have together. I'm still going to fight to save as many people as I can, but this, this right here is what I'm really fighting for. I want nothing more in the world than to be able to come back to this, to her, and to feel this loved and protected. _

_Our future together. That's what I'm fighting for from now on._


	12. What Happened to Prongs?

**Author's notes: The Rotten Writer, here again ladies and gentlemen with another chapter. This one was a little easier to write than the last two have been and was rather a bit of fun for me. Not as much fluff in this one though there's a bit in there, but we're skipping about a week of time and moving plots forward. Several different points have been hit during this chapter that will all tie up eventually and it's laying the ground work for future events in later chapters. Yay for progress. **

**Not much else to say really without going into a routine on all the other stories I'm working on, two of which haven't even been published in any way yet, so unless you guys are curious I'll save you that and simply move on. **

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Harry Potter franchise, world, characters, or anything else. Only the plot belongs to me and even that's kind of iffy. **

**And now, without any further ado, I give you Chapter Twelve of A Fair Life. **

A Fair Life

What Happened to Prongs?

by,

Rtnwriter

Harleen trembled, what felt like every muscle in her body shaking with strain as sweat dripped down her face and off the end of her nose. Her glasses had long since slipped down her nose but she couldn't move to fix them. A loud chime suddenly rang out through the room and she groaned and dropped to the ground on her front, arms and legs akimbo.

Very quickly, she winced, and forced herself to roll over onto her back as her breasts protested being squished between her body and the stone floor beneath her. _I have _got_ to remember not to do that,_ she thought irritably. The first time she'd done that very thing, the pain she'd experienced had been a complete shock and she was annoyed to learn that laying on her front was probably not generally going to be considered a good idea. As a male, with no breasts to get in the way, that hadn't been an issue that now needed to be added to her list of things that she needed to take into account when considering the differences in her body.

Groaning quietly she sat up and started a set of stretches, hoping to mitigate how sore her muscles would be later.

"You're already improving," Hermione told her from where she was resting on the small couch that sat against one wall. Hermione had not been able to keep up with Harleen in the workouts they'd started on Monday morning, but luckily she hadn't taken that small failure too hard. She knew that Harleen was physically more active than she was so she simply went about her own routine each morning without worrying about trying to keep up with her girlfriend.

She'd said nothing when Harleen joked that Hermione finished early just because she liked to sit and watch Harleen moving in the tight-fitting athletic clothing they'd been conjuring before each workout, though she did give Harleen a small, secretive smile.

"It's barely been a week," Harleen responded to her girlfriend's comment.

"You've still noticeably improved," Hermione argued. "You've lessened your lap time on the runs and your numbers for sets and reps have gone up nearly across the board."

"Let's give it at least a month to see how we're doing before we get too excited, love," Harleen said, standing and moving across the Room of Requirement to pour herself a glass of water from a pitcher resting on a small table by the couch. "Are we ready for today?"

Hermione nodded.

"I've worked out a general outline and all we need to do is finish getting the other champions on board before we approach the staff."

"Do you think it'd be better for us to approach Professor McGonagall in private, or should we try to present the idea to the entire staff?" Harleen asked curiously, dropping onto the other end of the couch from Hermione.

Hermione hummed quietly to herself, her eyes distant as she thought over the question for a moment. "Approaching Professor McGonagall might be easier, a smaller audience to deal with, but we might have a smaller number of required meetings if we asked to address the entire staff and ask for their help in sponsoring and overseeing the meetings. Even if we present the study group meetings as a student-run club, of sorts, there will need to be a staff member on hand for each meeting to supervise considering the number of students we're hoping to have."

Harleen nodded her head, expecting that answer.

"Alright, I'll ask the Headmaster if we could have a meeting this afternoon? If they agree to let us start it up we might be able to announce it at dinner."

"We're going to have a busy weekend, then. Talking to the other champions this morning, meeting Sirius in the village, then the staff discussion, if it's approved so quickly. Possibly announcing the club tonight. Tomorrow Augusta wants to get started on those lessons that you're supposed to be taking on being a proper Lady of your House."

Harleen grimaced. "Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, letting her head drop against the back of the couch. "I'm really not looking forward to that crap."

"I know, hon, but it _is_ important that you at least know the rules and etiquette and all of that. It'll make navigating society easier in the future. And maybe it'll help give some insight on why some people are acting so weird."

Harleen's grimace turned into a frown at that. Over the last week there had been an increasing number of strange occurrences with some of the other students. Most notably being Malfoy. Monday morning they'd gone to Potions and she'd been prepared for a confrontation. If she wasn't mistaken that was the lesson that he'd shown off the 'Potter stinks' badges in the previous timeline, but there'd been nothing. He had passed her and Hermione in the hall heading into class and had actually cordially greeted her on his way by, calling her 'Heiress Potter'. Of course, he'd pretended that Hermione wasn't standing right there next to her but before she'd been able to muster a response he was already in the class and sitting down at his preferred desk near the back of the room.

"Yeah, Malfoy's behaviour is really freaking me out."

"You don't remember him acting like this?"

She shook her head. "No. He was still just as much of a jerk as ever. He'd had these badges made that more than half the school were wearing that said 'Support Cedric Diggory, the Real Hogwarts Champion' but when you tapped them the wording changed to read 'Potter stinks'"

Hermione snorted. "Really? That's the best he could come up with?"

"That's what I thought at the time but it still pissed me off." Harleen let out a long sigh. "I think I was just so angry that year. Everyone either hated me or they were congratulating me for tricking the goblet. Almost no one really believed that I didn't do it."

She lifted her head from the couch and glanced over at the bushy-haired witch. "Except you. You never doubted me for a second."

Hermione's cheeks flushed but she smiled brightly.

Harleen sat up and turned more toward the other girl. "About… about today," she started, fiddling nervously with the glass of water she was still holding.

"If you're nervous about how Sirius is going to react to you being a girl," Hermione interrupted, "I don't think you have any reason to be. He'll have known that you were born a girl and when the fidelius broke he'd have gotten those memories back."

Harleen blinked, her train of thought completely derailing for a moment before she offered a rueful smile. "I actually hadn't even considered that… though now I kinda can't stop thinking about it."

Wincing, Hermione could only mutter a quiet, 'sorry'.

"No, it's okay. It's logical, actually and I'm not surprised you'd have considered that possibility. I don't mean that I thought it through and realized he'd know, I just hadn't actually considered the difference at all. It barely even occurred to me…" She trailed off for a moment contemplatively. "Think that means I'm getting used to being a girl again? That I didn't even think about the fact that the last time he saw me I was a boy?"

"Maybe. It's possible, I assume. But, what was it you were going to ask?"

Harleen nodded and took a deep breath. "I was just… well we're not supposed to meet him until two o'clock or so, right?"

Hermione nodded. "According to what you told me."

"So… I was wondering if you'd… if you'd like to consider the time before we go meet him as-as a… a date?"

Hermione straightened up in her seat, her eyes fixed on Harleen who was starting to feel as if maybe she should have kept her mouth shut until the other girl smiled softly and a sense of relief washed through her.

"I'm already your girlfriend you know," Hermione pointed out. "You don't need to be nervous about asking me out on a date."

"Maybe, maybe not. I just thought that we kind of missed a few steps. We got right to the 'relationship' part of things and we kind of missed the 'going on a date' part and I thought it could be fun. Just because we're already together doesn't mean dates aren't… maybe not 'necessary', but it could still be nice, right?"

Reaching out Hermione took hold of one of Harleen's hands and she gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"You don't have to convince me," she said. "I'd love to consider this our first date."

Harleen could feel her smile growing as she leaned in to give Hermione a quick kiss, intentionally keeping it short as she was aware she was a sweaty mess, and in desperate need of a shower. Standing, she quickly pulled the other girl to her feet.

"Come on," she said. "The sooner we get everything done, the sooner we can get down to the village."

Hermione's only response was to laugh at her girlfriend's sudden enthusiasm as she let herself be pulled from the Room of Requirement, both girls looking forward to the day ahead of them.

#####

_I'm not really sure this is the best way to do this,_ Harleen thought later as she sat at the Hufflepuff table with a growing group of friends. _At least not so soon, what if they changed something?_

Angelina sat to her right with Hermione on her left. Neville held the seat directly across from Harleen, with Alicia and Katie on either side of him. For the last week the three chasers had taken to joining them for most of their meals and she had to admit, watching Neville try to stammer his way through a conversation while bracketed by the two gorgeous girls was fairly amusing.

Her attention shifted down the table to the other three champions where they were leaning in to better hear Hermione, who was in the process of outlining her plan for their study group.

"... so, the tournament rules say that teachers and staff can't help their champions because it would be considered cheating. However, there is nothing to say that the champions can't train and learn from each other," she was saying as Harleen tuned back into the conversation.

"But we are still supposed to be competing," Cedric pointed out. "Doesn't cooperating kind of defeat the purpose of the competition?"

"By all means, keep your plans or strategies for the tasks themselves to yourself," Hermione countered, "but that doesn't mean you can't still train with and teach each other."

"Eet _could_ be 'elpful," Fleur mused, quietly. "Zough…" She glanced at Harleen. "I am sorry to say, 'Arleen, but would you be able to keep up? We _are_ all older and 'ave learned more zan you."

"Don't worry about me," Harleen said. "I can hold my own." She was confident, but the other champions didn't appear to be convinced.

"Headmaster Karkaroff would not allow it, I am afraid," Viktor informed them, regret in his tone.

"Madame Maxime 'as been insisting zat I spend more time practicing and less time wiz all of you," Fleur admitted.

"I don't want to see anyone get hurt," Harleen said. "The tasks ahead of us are going to be dangerous and we will _all_ have a better chance if we help each other train."

Leaning forward she studied the three of them carefully for a moment before turning her head to her girlfriend. Hermione simply shrugged and arched one brow in her direction. Harleen let out a sigh and pushed herself to her feet. "All right, come with me, I have something that I need to tell the three of you."

She stepped over the bench and moved down the table to a clear spot and sat again, waiting for the three older students to join her.

"What's this about, Harleen?" Cedric asked and Harleen motioned for him to wait. Her wand shot into her hand and she waved it, muttering the incantation for a muffliato under her breath.

"What was zat spell?" Fleur asked as Harleen put her wand away. "I deed not recognize eet."

"Privacy spell. No one closer than a couple of feet from us will be able to hear our conversation." Harleen paused, taking a moment to collect her thoughts as she considered how best to present the information she wanted to give them. Finally she decided to go with a direct approach. "I know what the first task is going to be."

She waited a moment to let that sink in then continued speaking before any of them could cut in.

"I can't tell you how I know, and I mean that literally. Not that I won't, but that I _can't_. I swear that I am not lying, or trying to trick you, or anything like that, and unless they suddenly decide to change the task now with two weeks to go it should be exactly as I say."

"And you vill tell us vat task is if ve come to group?" Viktor asked, his scowl more pronounced than ever.

"No, I'm not trying to blackmail or coerce you guys either. I'll tell you whether you agree to come to the group or not. I'm just hoping that, once you know, you'll see that we all need all the help we can get. Our group would be good for that."

The three of them exchanged a look for a moment before they turned their attention back to Harleen.

"Well?" Cedric asked. "What is the task supposed to be?"

"It's dragons," she said. _I hope. If my actions have caused them to change the task for some reason this will all blow up in my face, but I can't wait another week to confirm it, they need the extra time to work on what they intend to do._

She glanced to Viktor and Fleur, both of whom looked pale. "Your Headmasters should learn about it in a few days to a week, I think, but I didn't want you guys waiting until the last minute to start working on your strategies. It's going to be hard enough as it is and we could use all the time we can get to prepare."

"Dragons?" Cedric questioned weakly.

"One for each of us," Harleen confirmed with a short nod. "We don't have to fight them, just steal something from them. There will be a golden egg in the nest with the dragon's real eggs and we each need to steal it. The egg has a clue that will be important to the second task."

"Nesting mozers!" Fleur shrieked. "Zey would have us steal from nesting mozer dragons? Are zey insane?"

"I've thought so for years now. Wizards are nuts!"

"I think I haff been insulted."

Harleen shot Viktor a grin at his deadpan comment. "Says the guy that rides his broom at full speed straight at the ground while dodging flying cannon balls," she quipped.

A moment later he cracked a small grin and nodded his head. "Fair," he said.

"You're serious, Harleen?" Cedric cut in. "This isn't a joke? Nesting mothers, they really want us to steal from nesting mothers?"

"I'm being completely serious," she answered. "I wouldn't joke about something like this and we'll be able to confirm it maybe a week before the task itself."

_As long as my information is still good._

"Why waste our time with this study group, then?" he asked. "Sounds like we should be focusing on what we need to do to get through the task.

"Teaching is one of the best ways to learn. We can all work together, help each other, and that work will further our own understanding of the magic in the process."

Fleur had an amused smirk on her lips as Harleen finished. "'Ermione said zat, didn't she?"

Harleen grinned, unashamed. "She's always had a better way with words than me," she admitted, "and I've learned that she is very nearly always right, so it's usually best to listen to her."

The three of them exchanged another look, each still slightly pale from the bombshell that she'd just dropped on them.

"I'm in," Cedric finally said as Viktor and Fleur silently nodded their agreement. "It sounds like it could be helpful and the way Hermione explained it, it honestly wouldn't take that much time for us, leaving us plenty of time to work on our own strategies."

"Great! Hermione and I will present the idea to the staff, hopefully later today, and with any luck we'll announce it tonight at dinner."

Harleen canceled the muffliato and the four of them rose and walked back toward their previous seats. As the three older students sat, Harleen kept walking toward the Head Table, flashing Hermione a bright smile as she passed.

She came to a stop in front of the Headmaster and politely cleared her throat, pulling several of the nearest professor's attention toward her.

"Miss Potter?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward slightly in his seat to peer over the table at her. "Is there something that I may help you with?"

"I hope so, Sir. Hermione and I have been talking and we would like to discuss the possibility of starting a student club."

"House Clubs should be discussed with your Head of House."

"This wouldn't be a Gryffindor Club," she replied, shaking her head. "The hope is for it to span all four houses and all years, as well as the visiting students. A number of students from different Houses have already expressed an interest and Cedric, Mister Krum, and Miss Delacour have all said that they would like to be a part as well. We were hoping that we could present the idea to the staff later today, hopefully before dinner? It would require some staff supervision considering the size and number of students we're hoping to have but we have an outline that should keep disruptions down _and_ we feel it could be beneficial to the school as a whole."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, absently stroking his beard with one hand as those professors who were paying attention leaned closer in interest.

"An interesting proposal, Miss Potter," Dumbledore finally murmured. "I do believe that most of the staff will be available in the hour before dinner. Will that give you sufficient time?"

"That should be plenty of time, Sir, thank you."

"You are most welcome, Miss Potter. You should return to your breakfast, we wouldn't want you to miss your first chance to visit Hogsmeade, would we?"

Harleen caught herself before she frowned, remembering that as far as most people knew, she'd never been to the village before. Last year she didn't have a signed permission slip so she hadn't been able to go, officially.

"Yes, Sir."

Returning to the table, she was able to finish her breakfast with minimal interruption, right up to the point that she and Hermione both stood to start making their way to the village.

At the same time that they stood up, a figure in the crimson robes of the Aurors appeared in the doorway leading out of the Great Hall along with an elderly witch carrying a large handbag with a stuffed vulture perched atop her hat.

"Madam Bones? Augusta?" Harleen asked as they approached the two older witches, confusion evident in her tone.

"I'm glad we caught you girls," Amelia Bones commented. "I really need to speak to you, Miss Potter. Augusta is here as your guardian and I need her permission to speak to you in an official capacity."

Harleen exchanged a worried look with the girl beside her before she sighed and turned her attention back to their visitors.

"Well, let's find somewhere quiet where we can talk."

#####

After the abrupt meeting with Madam Bones, Hermione found herself hard-pressed to help keep her girlfriend focused on their date. Normally she might have been annoyed that, after asking her out, Harleen hardly seemed present as they walked around the village, looking in shop windows and occasionally going into one shop or another to take a closer perusal of what was on offer. She _could_ have been annoyed, but Hermione Granger was not that self-absorbed. Amelia's visit was plenty enough to throw Harleen entirely off balance and Hermione simply resolved to do her best to distract the other girl until it was time to meet her godfather.

"I'm really sorry, Hermione," Harleen muttered as the two of them made their way toward the Shrieking Shack that afternoon, a heavy basket filled with food and bottles of butter beer from the Three Broomsticks held between them. "This was supposed to be our first date and I've pretty much ruined it, haven't I?"

"It's perfectly fine," Hermione argued. "After seeing Madam Bones earlier, no one could expect you to be focused on much else right now."

Harleen looked unconvinced and Hermione pulled her to a stop. "Hey, this was never going to be a romantic outing, not with us keeping our relationship quiet. Really, it was just the idea that we would consider it a date that made it special beyond just spending time with my best friend." Harleen opened her mouth when Hermione kept going right over whatever she was going to say.

"Yes, you've been distracted, but you have a pretty good reason for it, so I'm not at all upset. But… if it really bothers you that much, you can make it up to me later."

Harleen was looking considerably more thoughtful as she considered that and Hermione started walking again, gently pulling Harleen along with her.

"Come on," she told the other girl, "Snuffles is waiting for us."

They reached the shack fairly quickly after that. Hermione noticed that Harleen didn't even appear to be aware of their surroundings as she seemed lost in thought, right up until they arrived at the fence that bordered the property. Hermione looked up at the dilapidated structure, a delayed thought occuring to her that she hadn't considered before.

"How are we going to get inside?" she wondered aloud.

"I can take care of that."

Harleen shifted the basket they were carrying to her left arm, grumbling under her breath about the weight, then held her right arm out to Hermione. "Grab on," she said.

Confused, Hermione nevertheless complied with her girlfriend's strange request and took hold of the offer arm, looping their arms together and clasping the other girl's hand in her own. Harleen closed her eyes in apparent concentration. A moment later Harleen seemed to twist slightly and suddenly Hermione's world dissolved into darkness and she felt as if her body were being compressed and then sucked through a straw, or maybe a rubber garden hose. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear, coul-

Whatever happened, ended as suddenly as it began, and Hermione staggered for a moment as her feet seemed to slam into the ground. Though no part of the experience was painful, it was damned uncomfortable, and only the tight grip she had on Harleen's arm kept her standing as she hunched over, free hand on her knee in an effort to keep her stomach from expelling whatever might have been left of her breakfast all over the cracked and broken floorboards under their feet.

_Wait… floorboards?_

She blinked several times and did her best to swallow down her nausea as she slowly pushed herself into a more upright position, her eyes scanning the room around them.

"Are… are we inside the Shack?" she asked.

"Yeah. I figured that apparating inside would be the easiest way so I pulled you along with me. Sorry I didn't warn you," Harleen added the last bit sheepishly as she set the basket down.

"You apparated without a license!?" Hermione practically shrieked. She really wasn't certain what she was most surprised by. The fact that her girlfriend had just broken the law, or that she knew how to do something that they hadn't been taught. Memories were one thing, but could she really know everything she learned in her extra years worth of memories? Did that translate into actually being able to do everything she'd learned?

Harleen shrugged. "We did it a lot while we were on the run. Getting a license to apparate wasn't exactly high on our list of priorities when the government was out to kill me," she muttered absently, her focus mostly on the room around them. A few silent waves of her wand had the majority of the dust and cobwebs cleaned up and the broken furniture repaired.

_There she goes again,_ Hermione thought. _Sometimes she talks about remembering things, and other times it's like she actually lived it, not just remembering it, but that would mean…_

Harleen was tapping her wand against her chin in a contemplative manner as she continued to study the room, an action that terrified Hermione to no end, as the door opened behind them and they both spun toward the noise, wands pointing at the figure that now stood in the doorway.

"Nice reflexes," Sirius said as he stepped the rest of the way into the room. Smiling, Hermione lowered her wand. Her smile turned into a frown a moment later when she felt Harleen's hand grip her arm, her own wand still pointed at the bedraggled wizard.

"Last year," she said, "what did you tell me that we could do after we got your name cleared?" Harleen's voice was hard, and there was a steely look in her eyes that greatly surprised Hermione.

"What are you talking about?" she asked only to be ignored by both of the other people in the room.

For a few seconds, Sirius just stared at them, a shocked look on his face. Eventually however, he broke into a broad grin.

"Smart," Sirius complimented, his eyes never leaving the tip of the wand still pointed unwaveringly at his chest. "We used to use security questions all the time, to make sure the person we were talking to was actually who they appeared to be. That's very smart of you to insist on, though I think you're being a little paranoid."

"Someone entered my name into a competition that was originally abandoned because of the growing death toll," Harleen countered. "I don't think I'm being paranoid enough. Answer the question."

Sirius nodded. "I said that you could come live with me, if you wanted to, instead of going back to your relatives home."

Hermione held back her surprised gasp through sheer force of will. That was something she hadn't realized. In the few minutes they'd been able to spend with Sirius last year she hadn't heard that offer and Harry had never mentioned it. The blow that losing Pettigrew really was finally sank in. Losing the rat hadn't just been losing a chance to get Sirius his freedom, it had also been Harleen losing the chance to live with someone that actually wanted her. Someone that wouldn't treat her as horribly as the Dursleys had.

Beside her, the rock steady wand that had been pointing at Sirius wavered for a moment. Less than a second later it shot back up Harleen's sleeve and the girl was racing across the short distance to throw herself against her godfather, arms wrapping tightly around him as he caught and spun her around.

"I missed you, Padfoot," Harleen muttered, her voice muffled against the man's chest.

Conjuring a table and moving a few chairs, Hermione started setting out the food they'd brought with them in an effort to give the two of them a few moments of privacy. In Harleen's memories, the last time she'd seen her godfather he was falling to his death through that Veil at the Ministry. According to the raven haired witch, it had been a couple of years since then, memory wise, but that didn't make the pain any less. On top of that, Sirius might have felt he'd only seen Harry a few months earlier, but to Harleen it had been nearly two years and Hermione was well aware the girl was going to be a little overwhelmed for a bit until she managed to get herself back together.

Eventually, Sirius placed his hands on Harleen's shoulders and gently pushed her back, just far enough that he could get a good look at her, dropping to one knee at the same time to better bring him closer to her height.

After their discussion in the Room of Requirement, Hermione knew that Harleen had put a significant degree of thought into her outfit for that day, both because of their intent for part of the day to be their first date and because of Hermione's own comments on Sirius' possible reaction to Harleen being a girl again. As a result of that, Harleen was wearing a pair of black shoes with knee high socks, a knee length skirt and another of the scoop necked blouses that showed enough cleavage to leave no doubt that she was decidedly female, but without having the overall effect of being slutty. Her hair was loose and brushed into some semblance of order but still had that messy look to it as it fell around her face and across her shoulders and upper back.

All in all, Hermione thought she looked incredibly cute.

"How?" Sirius choked out in a hoarse whisper, his eyes filling with tears as they roamed over her face. "I held you when you were born. I was there the day your parents took you home. I changed your nappies. You… you're m-my goddaughter, for Merlin's sake! How did I just forget that? What is going on, Harleen?"

Harleen threw her arms around the man's neck, hugging him tightly again as a small, relieved sob burst out of her.

"It's a long story, Mister Black," Hermione offered from where she had just finished setting out the last of the food.

"Hermione, right?" Sirius asked, turning his head slightly toward her.

Hermione nodded.

"None of that 'Mister Black' crap," he told her, smiling softly at her as he stood with Harleen still clinging to him, her feet now dangling above the ground as he carried her toward the table. "You helped this one break the laws of time to save my tail last year, I think you've more than earned the right to call me Sirius."

It took another minute or so, but Harleen finally released her godfather and let Hermione lead her to one of the chairs. Sirius sat across from them while Hermione took the seat next to Harleen.

"Eat, Sirius," Hermione told the man. "You can't have had a decent meal recently."

He shook his head. "I haven't. Mostly been living off of rats when I can catch them. Luckily, as a dog, I have a dog's taste buds, so it's not quite as awful as it sounds."

"So eat and we'll explain."

"You need to promise me something, Padfoot," Harleen cut in, her voice thick.

"What's that?"

"You're going to be upset. In fact, you're going to be pissed, but you _can't_ run off like you did when you went after Pettigrew. I don't mean to be harsh but I _need_ my godfather right now. I've got a very small number of adults that are actually on my side and I really need my godfather on that list. There are some things I'm going to need to do but I can't from school and I'll need your help to get them done. They're very important, not just for me but for the rest of the world too."

In the act of filling his plate, Sirius froze, his face going blank as Harleen spoke and Hermione could visibly see the tension filling the wizards body.

"I'm not blaming you for anything, and I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Padfoot. I just… I really, _really_ need you to understand how serious this is."

Slowly, Sirius placed his hands flat on the table on either side of his plate. "I made a stupid mistake. Instead of taking care of you, like I should have, I decided to focus on revenge and we missed twelve years that we could have had. I'm not going to do anything stupid anymore. You have my word, I won't go tearing off. Do you want to hold onto my wand while you explain? Just so I can't run off like an idiot?"

Harleen's smile was small, but genuine.

"No, your word is enough," she assured him. "Just… eat, and we'll explain what we can."

Over the next hour, Harleen, with Hermione helping whenever she could, filled Sirius in on what had been happening over the last week and a half since Halloween night. They made a point to stick to what Dumbledore did in regards to her life, her entry into the tournament, and what they'd been trying to do to make friends with the other champions to, hopefully, help each other survive what was coming in the tournament. When they finally finished, Sirius spent several minutes staring at his empty bottle of butter beer, his hands clenching and relaxing, almost convulsively, around the glass.

"That was smart," he finally said, his voice tight, as if he was physically restraining himself in some way. "Asking Augusta to place you under the protection of her House. That was damned smart. She won't take any crap from anyone and she'll do her best to protect you with everything that House Longbottom can bring to bear."

He blew out a long sigh.

"You're positive I shouldn't kick Dumbledore's wrinkled old arse all over the castle?"

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes while Harleen burst out laughing.

"No, Sirius. He made a lot of mistakes but he seems to honestly be trying to make up for them. I may not be willing to forgive him yet, but I'm not going to keep shoving it in his face either. Not when we're going to need him in the future."

Sirius grumbed a bit but he nodded and his posture relaxed relaxed a touch.

"This is a mess, kid," Sirius muttered. "The old man wasn't wrong that the orphaned heiress of a House like yours would be sought after in a big way by a lot of different factions in our society."

"Several people have said that at this point," Hermione pointed out. "But what exactly does that mean? How would anyone be able to get anything from Harleen?"

Sirius grimaced.

"Depending on who your magical guardian was they could arrange a marriage contract in exchange for any number of things, and as a minor you'd have no say in how your life was handled. I was supposed to be your guardian but they threw me in prison, that should have had you in some form of legal limbo. The Ministry would most likely have had you as a ward of the government, and we all know that Fudge can be bought pretty easily. It is possible that if Dumbledore hadn't done what he did you might have had a magically binding contract written to bind you to the Malfoys before you were even two years old."

Hermione was reasonably certain that the look on her face told clearly just how disgusted she was by that suggestion, she couldn't begin to imagine how Harleen must feel about it.

"Okay… for the sake of my lunch, I'm not going near that," Harleen muttered, swallowing thickly. "Back to what you were saying, yes, this whole situation is a hell of a mess. To be perfectly honest though, that's not even the half of it."

Sirius' eyebrows rose toward his hairline at that.

"There's a lot more going on, things we need your help with, but we can't explain that yet," Hermione told him.

He began to protest until Harleen cut him off.

"Even when we do tell you, we can't explain _how_ we know what we know. I understand it's asking a lot but I really need you to trust us."

Sirius eyed them both carefully for a minute before he let out another long sigh and slowly nodded his head.

"After what you two have done for me, I'd be the idiot that Snivellus thinks I am not to trust you, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt here."

Hermione could hear Harleen's relieved sigh, even over her own and she reached for her butter beer to wet her suddenly dry mouth and throat.

"So… how long have you two been an item?"

Hermione managed to turn her head in time to spit her drink across the floor instead of directly at the now hysterically laughing wizard sitting across from them, but only just.

"W-wh-what?!" she stammered out, her eyes wide and mouth hanging open, completely oblivious to the spilled drink dripping down her chin.

"Don't try to deny it," Sirius crowed gleefully. "There's something going on between you two. I thought I saw something last year when you were busy saving my mangy hide and it's only more obvious now. "

"How?" Harleen demanded.

With a broad grin on his face, Sirius pointed at the space in between the two girls. "You've been holding hands for the last twenty minutes or so."

Looking down, Hermione realized that she did indeed have Harleen's hand clasped tightly in her own and immediately let go. Or, she would have if Harleen hadn't tightened her grip and pulled Hermione's hand up to place a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles.

"Harleen!"

"What? Sirius is about the closest thing to family that I have left," she said in response to Hermione's knee-jerk protest. "You already said you don't intend to hide our relationship from your parents, why should we hide it from him?"

Immediately, all protest died and Hermione found herself staring into a worried green gaze. "Oh, love… I'm sorry, I didn't mean that we should hide it, I was just surprised. You know I don't do well with surprises." She directed a small glare at the grinning wizard. "A little warning would have been nice," she huffed, to which Sirius only grinned wider.

"This isn't going to be a problem, is it, Padfoot?" Harleen asked, a hint of worry poorly hidden behind an attempt at a stern tone.

Quickly, Sirius raised both hands in a placating gesture.

"Absolutely not," he said. "Why would you even wonder about that?"

"We've heard that wizarding society isn't very accepting of relationships like ours."

"No, no they're not, but when did I ever let what others accept dictate how I behave?"

Harleen and Hermione exchanged a look. "Well… we haven't exactly known you long enough to know how you feel about most things," Harleen pointed out dryly, causing Sirius to wince.

"Fair point, well made," he conceded with a sigh. "Well, for a quick explanation, my family have all been in Slytherin and as dark as our name in various ways going back centuries. I was the first Black sorted into Gryffindor in who knows how long and my mother never let me forget just how much of a disappointment I was to the family. I rejected everything my family preached, for the most part. Something like what you two have would set my mother spinning in her grave, so I say, 'go for it'. If this is what you want, don't let anyone try to tell you different."

He paused for a moment to let that sink in then leaned forward in his seat.

"That being said, I do have to ask, are you sure this is the kind of relationship that you want?" he asked, his eyes holding Harleen's gaze.

Harleen nodded emphatically. "Absolutely," she said. She glanced over at Hermione, a light pink dusting her cheeks. "I have for a long time."

Sirius offered his goddaughter a small smile then turned his dark eyes toward Hermione, who felt Harleen tense beside her and she gave the smaller girl's hand a gentle squeeze. Hermione had suspected this possibility and had warned Harleen about it during the last week, though she hadn't expected the topic of their relationship to come up quite so soon. Were Harleen still male and the two of them were together, Hermione suspected that Sirius would simply congratulate 'Harry' on getting a girlfriend and then probably make sure to teach him some contraception charms.

With a daughter, or daughter figure, men tended to think differently, even if they didn't mean to or were consciously aware of it. She figured that, in the absence of James Potter, Sirius would likely take up the perceived responsibility of ensuring any potential suitor was 'worthy' of Harleen's attention, for lack of a better term.

"What about you?" Sirius asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Are _you_ certain?" He jerked a thumb in Harleen's direction. "The way I hear it, that one's done almost nothing but drag you into trouble since you two met. Sure she's worth the aggravation?"

As Harleen's mouth dropped open, Hermione blinked several times in surprise before she noticed the amused glint in Sirius' eyes and the way his lips continued to quirk up into a sly smirk before he'd quickly smooth it away.

"Oh, yes," she said, a small smirk turning up the corners of her own mouth. "Harleen really does get herself into a lot of trouble. The thing is, she seems to need my help getting out of it once she's there." She glanced at Harleen, who was looking back and forth between her and Sirius with a bewildered expression on her face.

"Even if I wasn't already in love with her, I'd want to keep close to her, just to keep an eye on her."

Sirius burst out laughing, leaning back so far in his chair that the front legs came off of the ground and, for a moment, he looked to be in danger of falling backward onto the floor.

"You're lucky I love you, you know that, right?" Harleen asked, scowling slightly at Hermione though there was little real heat to her expression.

"I do know that," Hermione quipped, "and I'm sure I'll pay for that later." Leaning over she pressed a gentle kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "I hope you know that I love you, too." she whispered, watching carefully as the annoyed look in those expressive green eyes softened and Harleen leaned in to give her a longer, more lingering kiss in answer to Hermione's question.

By the time Hermione was settled fully back in her own seat Sirius was smiling softly at the both of them, all four feet of his chair firmly on the ground and Hermione blushed in spite of herself for the affectionate display she'd just engaged in in front of the older wizard.

"Hermione, I imagine that you expected me to pull the overprotective godfather routine, maybe ask what your intentions are or something like that?"

Somewhat sheepishly, Hermione nodded her head.

"If it was anyone else our girl had ended up with, I admit, I probably would have. But last year, even in the short time that I managed to spend with you, it was obvious to me that there was something incredibly special between you two. Even if you didn't end up together, I saw a friendship and loyalty to each other that was truly amazing to witness.

"I have no doubts that neither of you would ever intentionally do something to hurt the other, and if, for some reason, your relationship as a couple doesn't last long term, it's clear to me that you will be the closest possible friends for the rest of your lives." He reached across the table and took their free hands in his own. "You don't need it, but as the closest thing Harleen has to family, you absolutely have my blessing. _And_ I think I can say that James and Lily would approve as well. Both of your relationship and just you as a person, Hermione."

Hermone was honestly surprised to find herself feeling an immense sensation of relief that Sirius was so accepting of her and her relationship with his goddaughter. She hadn't _thought _that she had been particularly worried about how he would react, but obviously there was some hidden concern at the back of her mind that she hadn't been consciously willing to acknowledge until that moment.

Tears stung her eyes as that relief swept through her, overpowering and nearly all-encompassing. Both of the girls found themselves needing a minute to get their emotions under control. In those few minutes Hermione rushed around the table to deliver a fierce hug to the man. Sirius' laugh was warm and cheerful and it seemed to fill the room.

Lunch completed, they banished the table and an hour of light discussion later found Sirius sitting in a conjured armchair with Harleen and Hermione cuddling together on a freshly cleaned couch as they chatted.

Finally, Harleen glanced at the battered watch on her wrist and sat up with a disappointed sigh.

"We should get back to the school," she said, "but before that, we have one last thing we need to discuss with you, and I think this is probably going to be the hardest one for you to trust us on."

"Just spit it out, pup. No sense delaying the inevitable."

Reaching out, Hermione placed one hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, offering what comfort she could but remained silent, letting Harleen handle the information to come.

"On Halloween, after I got my body back and the fidelius broke, I set Madam Bones onto the fact that you're innocent of betraying my parents or killing Wortail... that you never even got a trial in the first place for either of those incidents… she's the Head of the DMLE, by the way."

Slightly shakily, Sirius nodded, though whether that was meant to indicate that he knew that about Madam Bones, or simply to acknowledge that he'd heard Harleen, she couldn't say.

"She was up at the school earlier with Madam Longbottom, just before we came down this morning, and let me know that she'd looked into things and found confirmation that you never got a trial. Right about now she should be waiting outside and has asked if you would talk to her."

Sirius was looking incredibly pale by this point.

"She swore that she has no intention of trying to send you back to Azkaban," Harleen assured him.

Sirius grimaced. "Kiss-on-sight order. No reason to send a soulless husk back to Azkaban."

"She _just_ wants to talk to you," Harleen insisted. "No Dementors. She said that even without Wormtail in custody she might be able to get you your freedom."

Sirius' knuckles were white, both hands clenched into tight fists on his thighs. He flinched when Harleen moved over to him and took one of his hands in both of hers, gently straightening his fingers so she could clasp his hand properly.

"I promise, everything will be okay. She was livid when we told her what happened to you, how Crouch treated you. You can trust her, Sirius.

"I know Amy. Or, I knew her at least. She was my mentor for a while after James and I graduated from the Auror Academy. Always knew her to be an honest, and basically incorruptible sort of woman."

"Then you know you can trust that she's not out to get you? That she just wants to talk to you?" Harleen pressed and he looked up into her eyes.

"I trust that _you_ trust her, but after so many years, she can't be the same woman that I once knew anymore. If you say that she's on the up and up, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt." Gently, he took his hand back and placed it on the arm of his chair, pushing himself to his feet and drawing his goddaughter into another long hug.

"Come on you two," he whispered thickly, "let's get going."

#####

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable as Harleen and Hermione finished presenting their initial argument for forming the study group. Well… his face showed the same grandfatherly expression that he typically wore. A gentle smile, mostly hidden by his long beard, with his blue eyes twinkling full blast and his long fingers laced together, his hands held flat against his chest.

Harleen had long since learned that that congenial mask was the aged wizard's version of a poker face. It gave away nothing of what he was actually feeling while giving the impression that he was on your side when you spoke to him. As such, she ignored the old wizard before her and instead let her eyes move over the rest of the staff, hoping to have a better chance to judge their reactions.

Professors Vector, Babbling, and Burbage looked interested, while professors McGonagall and Sprout appeared curious, but cautious. Snape's sneer said more than enough, but it was professor Flitwick that was the real surprise. The diminutive little professor was practically vibrating in his seat, an excited expression etched onto his face.

"Well," the Hadmaster spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to him. "It is clear that you have put a great deal of thought into this, ladies. I personally feel that this is an excellent idea, however I shall call upon my colleagues to further their own understanding. Do any of you have any questions for our young students?"

"How many days per week were you hoping to run your club?" asked Professor Sprout, leaning forward in her seat as she spoke.

"Hopefully most evenings immediately after dinner," Harleen answered. "First through fourth year students one day, then fifth through seventh the next day. This way those with an evening Astronomy class that might wish to skip a club night in order to get in a nap before the late class can do so without having a long wait before the next club meeting for their year."

"Why that year breakdown?" Professor McGonagall inquired.

"Ostensibly, first through fourth year students have the easiest work loads. By encouraging the older students to help the younger, both groups will be able to benefit," Hermione said.

"How so?"

"The first and second year students will be able to benefit from the third and fourth year student's experience. They can offer more one-on-one instruction than can be found in a formal classroom setting to help in the specific area where a student might be having trouble. Pronunciation, wand movement, or lack of understanding regarding the proper theory. By the very act of teaching, having to explain and demonstrate, the older students will increase their own understanding of what they are teaching, which will help them with their own studies as that work is simply expanding on the basics that we are taught in our first two years."

"And the same could be said for the fifth through seventh year students," Professor Vector muttered thoughtfully. "Fifth year has OWLs and the other two years have already been through that. Those three years benefit each other more than if we placed years four and five together."

"Exactly," Hermione confirmed with a nod of her head.

"I would be happy to offer my services as a staff supervisor," Flitwick squeaked excitedly. "This is a very well thought out idea and I feel that we will see a marked improvement in grades across the board from those students that choose to attend."

"You claimed this morning, Miss Potter, that there were students from multiple Houses that had already expressed an interest. Which Houses and Years?" queried the Headmaster.

"Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw students from third through sixth year, as well as the visiting champions from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons."

Snape sneered again when Harleen finished speaking.

"I see you intentionally left out _my_ students, Potter," he snarled. "Trying to disadvantage my Slytherins? That is, of course, the only way you can make yourself seem better than your superiors."

Most of the staff turned surprised looks toward the seething man. Even Dumbledore was frowning at him, kindly image gone in his irritation with the Potions Master.

Before anyone could say anything, Harleen scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Once again, you prove yourself to be a small minded fool with an ongoing victim complex, Snape," she drawled lazily.

The silence in the room would have been complete if not for Snape huffing like an enraged bull, his face purple and his teeth almost audibly grinding together.

"I am still a professor at this school and-"

"You have to actually _teach_ to be considered a professor, Snape. Please be quiet and stop making assumptions so that we can finish explaining," Harleen snapped, cutting the irate man off.

A gentle touch on her arm had her biting her tongue against the rest of what she wanted to say and she took a step back, letting Hermione take over again.

"We have not intentionally excluded anyone and have already said that we want the group to encompass the entire school, that includes Slytherin, " Hermione smoothly continued before Harleen could lose her temper.

"Why do you presently not have any prospective students from Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked. "And how do you propose to include them going forward?"

"The general animosity between the two Houses and lack of social interaction outside of class meant that we weren't sure who might be receptive to learning about a study group from us, so we were unable to approach any of the Slytherin students. In order to include them, we were hoping that you, Headmaster, might make the first meeting mandatory for the entire school. That way they get a chance to attend one meeting and can then decide for themselves if they wish to continue attending after the fact."

Several of the staff members were nodding their heads while Snape simply glowered at Harleen.

"What I don't understand is how the two of you intend to run this group," Vector commented. "With three year groups ahead of you and holding meetings nearly every evening, how could two fourth year students be in charge?"

"Oh we have no intention of being in charge, not in an official capacity," Hermione answered.

"We have some ideas for spells that we could teach some of the younger students, and hope that a few of the older ones may take a similar stance, holding lessons on specific spells that they've learned. It is intended to truly be a school endeavour, not the work of a particular student or House. We see this as an opportunity to get the entire school working together, regardless of which House they've been sorted into." Harleen stepped forward as she spoke, carefully ignoring Snape and focusing her attention on the rest of the assembled faculty.

"I said something similar to Cedric on Halloween morning. In the three years I've been here, I've barely interacted with other students outside my House and I just don't see why we do that. With so many other students here I think we all might find good friends in the other Houses and this could be a good way to try to break down some of the walls we've all put up between ourselves, look outside our usual circles, and improve on our classes at the same time."

"For that reason alone I am inclined to give approval for this endeavour. The sixth year prefects can help to keep order during the lower year meetings by simply rotating out which House prefects are present each night. We might even imply to the fourth year students that assisting during the meetings could go toward our decision for next year's prefects, and with Professor Flitwick so enthusiastically offering his support we have our staff supervisor covered," Dumbledore spoke, his eyes twinkling more actively than ever.

"I'd be happy to sit in on occasion as well," Professor Burbage offered. "I couldn't possibly attend every meeting but as often as possible I'd like to see how this all goes."

"Very good. Are there any doubts about allowing this project to proceed?" the Headmaster asked of the room at large and when no one spoke up, he turned his gaze back to the two girls in front of them. "Well, congratulations, ladies. You have convinced us. Dinner is just about to start so let us head into the Great Hall and I will let you explain to the students about your project. And… yes, I think thirty points each to Gryffindor, for coming up with such an inspired idea."

As the staff filed out of the room, lead by an irate Potions Master, Harleen and Hermione followed along behind them, Hermione bouncing giddily as they walked.

"This is brilliant, Harleen," she gushed excitedly as the staff took their seats at the Head Table. A glance across the room showed that the entire student body appeared to already be in the Great Hall and Harleen found her throat suddenly feeling dry at the prospect of having to speak in front of the entire school. She'd had enough trouble talking to the original members of the DA in the first timeline and now she had to talk in front of everyone?

Oh sure, she'd made a few announcements on Halloween in front of everybody, but she hadn't exactly been paying attention to the students staring at her at that time. She'd been pissed at Dumbledore and the pain of her transformation had certainly been distracting her from the attention she'd been gathering to herself at the time.

She felt a hand slip into hers and squeeze gently and turned her attention to the girl standing at her side, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You'll do fine," Hermione assured her. "I'll be right there with you and you won't have to do all of the talking yourself; Don't worry."

Gratefully, Harleen offered a small smile and squeezed back before reluctantly letting go of her girlfriend's hand. As much as she didn't want to let go, the fact that Sirius had so quickly seen through them reminded them both that they needed to work harder at not advertising their new relationship, not just yet. It wouldn't do for other people to figure it out as her godfather had.

"... first meeting, to be held at an unknown time at this point, will be mandatory for all students attending this institution. After that first meeting attendance is entirely voluntary, though I do hope that many of you will avail yourselves of the potential opportunities offered by this endeavour," the Headmaster said, drawing Harleen's attention back to him where he was standing and addressing the crowded Hall. "Our visiting students are welcome to attend as well while you are our guests. The staff and I have high hopes for this group. Now, let me turn things over to the two young ladies that brought this idea to us and I will allow them to explain how things will work. Please, listen carefully, and hold any questions until after they have finished with their presentation."

Taking a deep breath, Harleen squared her shoulders and walked out in front of the staff table with Hermione right by her side until the two of them stood front and center, a sea of eyes fixed squarely on them.

"Evening everyone," Harleen said, raising her voice slightly. "Can everyone hear me?" A general murmur swept through the crowd but no one spoke out in the negative so she took that to mean that they could all hear her properly and simply continued.

For ten minutes, she and Hermione outlined the group, how it would work, which days would be for which individual year groups and so on with little to no interruption from their audience. As they spoke, Harleen's confidence grew as many of the faces she could see appeared interested, or at least curious. Very few seemed outright upset or against the concept they were outlining and she saw that alone as a win given the separation between the Houses.

"Now, I understand that having the first meeting be required doesn't inspire confidence, so we'll get it out of the way as quickly as we can and hold it tomorrow evening immediately following dinner," Harleen ended their announcement. "The way the group is intended to operate won't really work for tomorrow's meeting since there will be too many of us, even with having the meetings here in the Great Hall so instead tomorrow will be a special presentation to start teaching a new charm. Mostly just explaining the charm and letting you all give it a try. That won't be how the group should operate on the whole, but I do hope that some of us will be willing to hold smaller classes during our year groups days to teach spells to other students that might prove useful in the future."

"What spell are you going to show us?" someone yelled out, to which Harleen exchanged a look with her girlfriend for a moment.

"We've been thinking about that, and we've decided that I will be demonstrating the Patronus Charm," she announced. That statement was followed by a marked rise in the noise in the room as murmurs swept through the crowd. Harleen noticed the Drumstrang and Beauxbatons students looking shocked with even Viktor dropping his usual scowl fie wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"Can you even cast a patronus?" someone else shouted. "That's a NEWT level charm."

"I learned how to cast it last year."

"Prove it!"

With an inaudible sigh, Harleen let her wand shoot from the sleeve of her robes and into her hand, closing her eyes for a moment as she thought back to that second morning that she woke up in her girlfriend's arms. She felt safe. She felt loved. She felt happier than she'd ever felt in her life.

Raising her wand, she opened her eyes, smiling softly as she spoke the incantation.

"Expecto Patronum."

Gasps rippled through the crowd as a brightly glowing shape bulged outward from the tip of Harleen's wand. Warmth and joy spread through the room as silver light shone from the large figure as it silently cantered its way up the walkway between the two middle tables.

Warmth and joy that Harleen barely noticed through the shock of pain that filled her. She felt as if a fist had clamped itself around her heart and when she spoke, her voice came out as though it belonged to a lost, scared, little girl.

"But… what happened to Prongs?"

As if to answer her, her patronus spread its large wings and turned, launching itself into the air to do a circuit around the room before the thestral came in to land right in front of her. It towered above her, folding its wings along its sides before it bowed its head to her and slowly faded out of existence.


	13. Bug Repelling Wards?

**Authors notes: Alright gang, now we're cooking with gas. This chapter moves things forward a bit. Next chapter should be the 1st task of the tournament, so we're movin right along. Not a lot to say without giving stuff away to you guys so I guess we'll just move ahead. Thank you all for reading and for the continued interest in this story. I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own jack. This is a highly disappointing state of affairs.**

**Here we go with chapter 13 of A Fair Life. **

A Fair Life

Bug Repelling Wards?

by,

Rtnwriter

Sirius stood staring out the window, barely really seeing the beautiful sunrise, so lost was he in his own thoughts. In his right hand he held a cup of coffee that would have gone cold long ago were it not for the charms on the mug keeping its contents at a constant temperature.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

He turned as the voice intruded on his solitude and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Which part?" he asked. "The part where you stunned me the second I came through the door? Or the part where I woke up tied to a chair and spent three hours being interrogated under veritaserum?"

"The part where I forgot the cushioning charm _before_ I stunned you," Amelia said, coming the rest of the way into the kitchen and heading straight for the kettle on the stove to prepare herself some tea. "How's your jaw?"

Absently Sirius gingerly rubbed at the mottled, but healing, yellow and purple bruise on the left side of his jaw, caused by his face's impact against the floor after she'd stunned him the previous day.

"I'll live," he muttered.

Amelia winced slightly as she took a seat at the kitchen table. "I believed that the _girls_ believed you were innocent, Sirius. But I had to be sure."

"I understand, Amy, it's fine." Sirius sighed and moved to sit at the table, setting his cup down as he slid into a seat. "I know how the world works. The only question I have is what happens next?"

"Next? Next, we prepare for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"Monday."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I am aware what day of the week it is. What is so important about this particular Monday that we have to spend a day preparing for it?

Amelia allowed herself a smirk that she managed to get under his skin, it kind of felt like old times to her. Taking pity on him, she didn't leave him in suspense for long.

"Before I came down, I sent out missives calling for an emergency session of the Wizengamot. They don't know it, but first thing tomorrow morning we'll be holding your trial."

She eyed him critically and Sirius suddenly found himself feeling self-conscious for the first time since his second year at Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry to say it, Sirius, but you look like dragon shite."

"Ouch," he said in a deadpan tone.

Amelia smiled and simply shrugged her shoulders.

"No, really. Don't hold back, Amy, tell me how you really feel."

"You know I don't mince words and you showing up tomorrow looking like _that_ won't do you any favours."

Sirius snorted but couldn't refute her words. He was well aware that he'd looked better, but more than a decade in Azkaban followed by more than a year on the run hadn't exactly given him a lot of time for appropriate levels of self-care.

"Before we get you in front of the Wizengamot we need to get you cleaned up, into some new clothes, and get you a shave and a haircut."

"I'm not asking any of them on a date, Amy," he growled irritably.

"You know those old fools won't take you seriously looking like something Death brought with him in his suitcase," she argued. "You need to put your best foot forward. If you're not willing to do it for yourself, then do it for your goddaughter."

Sirius tried to maintain an annoyed glower but it quickly collapsed into a pained grimace.

"That's a low blow," he grumbled.

"I really don't care," Amelia shot back. "You promised that girl that you were done being stupid. This is your first chance to prove it. Swallow your damn pride, play the game, and do everything possible to make sure that you walk away from that court tomorrow a free man."

"I have every intention of doing that, Amelia. Couldn't you just let me pout and be childish for five minutes?"

"Honestly?"

He nodded.

"No."

"I figured as much," he sighed and squared his shoulders. "All right. Let's get this over with."

"We'll also have a lot to go over while we're at it. I want to pick that night in '81 apart, as well as your escape from Azkaban and the night you and the kids encountered Pettigrew at Hogwarts. I want you to know the story backwards and forwards so there's no discrepancies when you're questioned under veritaserum."

Calling for the Bones Family house elf, Amelia had breakfast served and motioned for Sirius to dig in.

"Eat. We've got a lot to do today."

Silently, Sirius nodded and filled his plate. He had the distinct feeling that it was going to be a _long_ day.

#####

Sunday passed quietly, though Hermione found herself frequently checking on her girlfriend throughout the day. No one else had heard Harleen's broken exclamation the night before and Hermione had done her best to support Harleen and to try to understand just what had so completely upset the girl.

It was obvious enough that she was hurt that her stag patronus was different. Hermione hadn't recognized the creature it was now, nor did she know how the shape of the patronus had changed, or even that they _could_ change, so she was lacking a lot of information.

Harleen sat through the lessons with Augusta, listening and following instructions without complaint. Augusta had given the girl more than a few confused looks throughout the lesson and Hermione could only guess that the older witch had expected more arguments from the raven haired teen. Hermione herself had expected more but there'd been nothing.

That evening, after dinner, the first meeting of their study group took place and Harleen had a good number of students producing a fine silver mist by the end of the lesson.

Throughout the course of the meeting, Harleen never once cast her own patronus, no matter how many times it was requested. She changed the subject every time it came up and in the end, whoever had asked somehow ended up attempting to cast the charm themselves.

Despite wanting to talk to Harleen about what happened, Hermione had been so utterly exhausted after her own attempts at the taxing spell that she'd crawled into her bed that night and had quickly fallen asleep.

Which lead to Monday morning and the fact that Hermione was stalking her way toward the Room of Requirement after waking to an empty dorm room. Ahead of her, the door to the Room came into sight and she picked up her pace, eager to see her girlfriend.

Pushing open the door, Hermione slipped into the Room and almost immediately froze in place, her eyes going wide as the door closed quietly behind her. She had expected to find the exercise room they'd been using for the last week. Instead, Hermione found herself facing what looked like a dueling hall.

Rather than anything remotely resembling duelling going on, Harleen appeared to be under attack by four robed figures at the same time. Worse, In Hermione's opinion, Harleen's wand was nowhere in sight as she ducked, spun, and dove to avoid the spells flying at her. As she watched, a spell impacted against her girlfriend's left shoulder and Harleen winced and staggered for a moment. That brief interruption of her momentum was all it took, and four more spells hit her in rapid succession, one striking her right thigh, just below the edge of her shorts while three hit her in the chest and abdomen, throwing her to the ground.

"Stop!" Harleen barked out just before Hermione could let loose the terrified scream that she could feel bubbling its way up her throat and all four figures suddenly vanished.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Hermione demanded, tossing out her usual reluctance to curse in favor of expressing just how upset she was.

Harleen jerked from her spot collapsed on the ground and lifted her head enough to see Hermione, who was in the process of making her way across the Room toward the downed witch.

"Dodging practice," Harleen panted, lowering her head back to the ground. "It doesn't matter as much... what people throw at me… if they can't hit me."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Hermione snapped, dropping to her knees beside Harleen as she started looking the girl over. Painful looking welts were already forming on Harleen's exposed shoulder and thigh and Hermione couldn't help but wince in sympathy, despite how angry she was. "What did they hit you with?" she demanded.

"Urgh… from what I can tell, it's an overpowered stinging hex." Harleen groaned and slowly sat up. "Hurts like hell, so I've got plenty of incentive to not get hit, but minimal risk of _real_ injury."

"Why were you in here alone?" Hermione asked, slowly calming down as she took in the fact that Harleen was alright, even if she _was_ going to be very sore for a while. "Why didn't you wake me up? This could have still been dangerous."

Harleen fidgeted a touch nervously. "I just felt like being alone for a little bit," she muttered.

Hermione studied the girl carefully, letting her fear and irritation fade the rest of the way before she spoke again.

"Is this about your patronus?" she asked softly.

Harleen was as still as a statue and just as silent for several long moments before she nodded her head in a sharp, jerky motion.

"Can you tell me?"

Again Harleen was silent, and Hermione found herself gently rubbing her girlfriend's back with one hand, just between her shoulder blades.

"I didn't recognize the creature it became," she commented after a long silence.

Harleen sighed. "It's called a thestral," she admitted.

Hermione frowned. "I've never heard of thestrals before."

"There's a herd of them here at school. Hagrid takes care of them and they pull the carriages."

Hermione's frown deepened. "The… they pull the 'horseless' carriages?" she asked carefully to which Harleen nodded her head.

"They do. Most people can't see them since they're mostly invisible."

"What do you mean, 'mostly invisible'?"

"I'd really rather not-"

"Please?" Hermione interrupted. "This is bothering you, and I don't want to nag you, but I want to help and I can't do that without information," she pleaded. "I could go read about them for myself and hope to guess what it is about them that's upsetting you so much, but it just feels like it'd be easier for both of us if you explained it to me."

Harleen looked at Hermione and for a few seconds she thought the smaller girl was going to deny her again before Harleen let out another long, drawn out sigh, her shoulders slumping in apparent defeat. "All right, fine," she said, "but can we please get off of the floor?"

Smiling, Hermione stood and helped her girlfriend to her feet, leading her over to the sofa that appeared as they stood. Before sitting, Hermione cast several drying and cleaning charms over Harleen, removing most of the sweat and grime that had accumulated during her exercises. She then dropped onto the sofa and pulled Harleen into her lap, loosely wrapping both arms around the girl's waist.

"So… what can you tell me about thestrals?"

"More than I'd like and less than anything really useful, I imagine," Harleen muttered, her face screwed up in thought.

Hermione bit her tongue and simply waited as patiently as she could.

"Well… you saw it, thestrals are technically a breed of winged horse, but it's about there that the comparisons run out. They're gaunt and skeletal looking with the only hair they have being their manes and tails. Their skin is more scaley. They're carnivores, incredibly clever, to the point where they can seem to understand human speech and they have an almost unparalleled sense of direction.

"Despite how scary they look though, they're actually very kind and gentle creatures. At least domesticated ones are, not sure exactly how they behave in the wild. They're also extremely territorial and protective of their family units."

Hermione blinked in surprise. That was certainly a lot more than she'd expected. "You seem to know a lot about them," she commented.

Harleen shrugged. "The problem most wizards and witches have with them is their invisibility. Most people think they're a bad omen."

"Because they can be invisible?"

"No," Harleen said, shaking her head. "Because of what's required to be able to see them." She shivered slightly and pressed herself closer to Hermione. "To see a thestral, you have to first see death," she murmured so softly that Hermione almost missed it.

"'See death'? What does that mean?" Hermione pressed.

"From what I can tell, it means that you have to have seen someone die. The actual moment when they passed on. You also have to be able to recognize and understand death, that that person is gone and won't be coming back."

Hermione hugged the girl in her lap, offering what comfort she could. "Is that what's upsetting you? The connection to death?"

Harleen shook her head against Hermione's shoulder. "I hadn't really thought about it actually, though once people figure out what my patronus actually is, I'm sure they'll start treating me differently again. No, it's more that the stag felt like a connection to my dad. His animagus form was a stag, remember? I liked the idea that it was like he was still protecting me as my patronus, even if he's gone."

Hermione thought carefully before she spoke, wary of any careless word that might be interpreted as insulting or dismissive of the memory of James Potter.

"It's sad," she finally said, "but it doesn't _have_ to be a bad thing if you don't want it to be."

Harleen gave her a quizzical look but said nothing.

"I'm sorry you feel like your dad isn't protecting you anymore, love, I really am. You are more than entitled to feel that. On the other hand, you know that happens to us all eventually, right? One day, we won't be protected by our parents anymore. One day, it comes down to us to _be_ the protector. Mentally, you're almost eighteen-years-old and maybe, somewhere inside you, you're not a child anymore.

"You still have pieces of your father, the map and your cloak, so it's not as if there's nothing for you to remember him by. So many people have compared you to him over the years and having the same patronus as his animagus form might have been comforting but... maybe it's just time for you to show them who Harleen Potter really is and step out of that shadow left by your dad. "

Feeling emboldened by the fact that Harleen hadn't interrupted or disagreed so far, Hermione held the girl closer and continued expressing her thoughts by asking a question.

"Do you know how it is that your patronus changed? I didn't even know that was possible."

"It can happen after a big upheaval in someone's life," Harleen explained, her body relaxing into Hermione's arms. "Something like falling in love, or the loss of someone close to you can change a person enough that the patronus changes as well."

Hermione considered that carefully for a moment, one hand absently stroking up and down Harleen's back.

"From what you said, then, I think the thestral actually fits you rather well," she admitted, to which Harleen simply gave her a dumbfounded look.

"They're creatures of the air, since they have wings. You said they're clever, protective, and intelligent, but also kind and gentle. All things that describe you fairly well." She grinned teasingly at the girl in her lap. "You even have a way to make yourself invisible."

Harleen snorted. "And the connection to death?" she asked.

"Well… you could look at your change back to your proper gender as a death, of a sort," she offered a touch hesitantly. "The male version of you is gone forever. 'Dead', in a manner of speaking. He is gone, and you, Harleen Potter, remain."

Harleen stared at her, her face clearly showing her surprise at Hermione's interpretation of her patronus' new form. Eventually, her expression cleared and she simply let her head rest more fully on Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione?" she whispered several minutes later.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you."

#####

Harleen fought the urge to curse under her breath as she made her way through the castle corridors, Colin Creevey bouncing happily along next to her as he chattered away a mile a minute. She actually wasn't certain that he'd paused to breathe since they'd left the potions classroom. That had been five minutes ago.

The reason for her foul mood could be summed up with two easy statements. First, she'd forgotten about the damned weighing of the wands. Second, because she'd forgotten, she and Hermione hadn't worked out a plan to deal with that irritating little insect, Rita Skeeter.

_Gonna have to wing it and pray it doesn't come back to bite me on the arse,_ she thought as they reached the door to the classroom where the ceremony was being held.

"Thanks for showing me the way, Colin," she said, cutting the excited boy off mid-sentence, hoping to get away from him as quickly as possible.

"No problem, Harry!" he blurted out, smiling widely at her.

As if Colin hadn't already been a fan, Harleen was beginning to suspect that the boy was adding a serious crush on top of his already _severe_ case of hero-worship. She hesitated for a moment, then simply opened the door and entered the room without saying anything else.

Just as she remembered from the last time around, it was a fairly small classroom with most of the desks pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a clear space in the middle. Three of the desks had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered in a long piece of velvet with five chairs set behind the desks. Harleen ignored Ludo Bagman, who was sitting in one of the chairs, chatting quietly with Rita.

Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur were already present, conversing happily in the center of the room.

_A far cry from last time where Viktor was just standing in the corner, scowling at everyone,_ she thought absently.

Bagman suddenly spotted her and practically leaped from his seat, bounding quickly toward her.

"Ah, here she is! Champion number four! Come on in, Miss Potter, nothing to worry about. The rest of the judges will be here in a moment for the wand weighing ceremony."

Harleen plastered a confused expression on her face as she turned toward the man. "What does it matter how much my wand weighs?" she asked in a puzzled tone of voice.

Bagman laughed. "No, no," he said. "The ceremony is just to check that the champions wands are working properly. Don't want to be having any problems during the tasks with your most important tool, after all. The expert is upstairs with Dumbledore right now and after the ceremony we'll be having a little photo shoot. This here is Rita Skeeter, she's doing a small piece for the _Daily Prophet._"

"Maybe not _that_ small, Ludo," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes fixed intently on Harleen. "I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start? The youngest champion, you know… to add a bit of color?"

"Certainly!" Bagman cried. "That is… if Harry has no objections?"

"I don-" Harleen started to say.

"Lovely," Rita cut her off. In a second her scarlet-taloned fingers had Harleen's upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip. "We don't want to be in with all this- eep!"

Rita's words cut off with a startled squeak as Harleen's wand suddenly shot from the sleeve of her robes, into her hand, and she raised it, pressing the tip hard into the soft tissue under the reporter's chin.

"Take your hand off of me, right now, Miss Skeeter, or I'll be forced to defend myself." In an instant, the hand gripping her arm let go and Harleen nodded her head. "Just so you are aware, I am under the protection of House Longbottom. I'm sure that Madam Longbottom will be contacting you soon about your assault. Just between us girls though, do that again and I won't leave enough of you for Augusta to do anything with."

Next to them, Bagman paled at the casual, even cheerful tone of voice that Harleen used as she delivered her threat, though both witches ignored him as Harleen slowly lowered her wand.

"I did _not_ assault you, you silly girl," Rita practically snarled, gingerly rubbing her chin where Harleen's wand had been digging into her skin.

"You, an adult, laid your hands on a minor, without permission and against my wishes. That is assault," Harleen said, still in that pleasant tone of voice.

"I was only trying to lead you somewhere we could talk."

"You don't lead someone by grabbing them against their will," Harleen replied. "If you still wish to talk I'd be happy to show you how to properly lead someone somewhere, since you don't appear to know how it's done."

With her off hand, Harleen motioned for the woman to follow her, her wand still held loosely at her side in her right hand, and she turned to make her way toward the far wall. As she passed the other champions she grinned at them and gave them a cheerful wave, all three older students smiling at her behavior. Harleen felt that the grin she managed to put on Viktor's usually sour face was a small victory, of a sort, and grinned even wider at the sight of it.

Once she reached the other side of the room, Harleen cast a silent muffliato and turned to face the clearly irate reporter.

"No one can hear us, Rita," she said, her wand shooting back up her sleeve and into her holster.

Rita's smile was not pleasant.

"You don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you, dear?" she asked with a sneer as she pulled out the acid green quill from her crocodile-skin handbag.

Calmly, Harleen reached out and plucked the quill from the woman's hands.

"I do mind, actually. I really wanted to get a chance to set some ground rules before we talked, the first of which being that these quills are never to be used for any interview you do with me."

"What are you talking about?" Rita snapped furiously. "You can't stand there and try to tell me how to do my-"

"Did you know that I'm taking Ancient Runes this year?"

Rita blinked as Harleen cut her off with that strange segue but said nothing.

"Fascinating subject, runes. Were you aware that runes are used extensively in the creation of wards?"

"So?"

"So, what do you think would happen to your career if I let slip that people should start using wards designed to repel _bugs_?"

Rita blinked again, her complexion going pale. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't, Rita," Harleen said in an understanding tone, reaching out to gently pat the woman's arm. "I'm just rambling on about something I thought was interesting. And it really is amazing how wards can be specifically tailored for various effects. Why, someone could create a ward that would easily target a specific _type_ of bug if they were of a mind. Say… something like a water beetle for example?"

Harleen twirled the quill between her fingers. "I'd bet that someone could even create a ward that had no other purpose than to violently, and painfully, _kill_ any water beetle that happened to be caught within its influence."

As she said the word 'kill' Harleen, quite deliberately, broke the quill in her hands in half and Rita flinched violently at the sound it made.

"Oh, dear," Harleen said with an exaggerated degree of dismay. "I'm so sorry, Miss Skeeter, I appear to have broken your quill."

Rita swallowed hard, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she managed to find her voice.

"Th-that's quite alright, dear," she said faintly. "I have others."

"Oh, wonderful! I wouldn't want to do anything to interfere with your work Miss Skeeter. I understand how important it is for a woman to be able to hold her own in our society these days."

Still pale, and perhaps a little green around the gills, Rita's eyes narrowed at the falsely innocent, wide-eyed expression that Harleen had plastered on her face.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"That's simple, Rita. I want you to do your job."

Rita frowned in confusion. "What?"

"By that, I mean that I want you to actually _report_ the news, not make up wild theories, conjectures, and accusations designed to hurt someone. Everything you write should be verifiable fact. I don't want to try to dictate _what_ you write, just that it's the truth, and I don't want us to have a strained relationship either, Miss Skeeter. In fact, I think I can offer you some really good incentives to stick to real stories."

"More threats?" Rita snapped, some of her fear bleeding away in indignation.

Harleen shook her head. "Not at all. I have some stories that I could point you toward that I think could launch your career to entirely new levels."

"And I suppose you'll only give me these stories if I swear not to write anything about you?"

Again, Harleen shook her head. "If it's factual, go ahead and write it. Just be sure of what's actually true, get all sides of the story before you print anything instead of making things up to fill in the gaps. With your… skillset, I think that you could honestly be a phenomenal investigative journalist. You just need to get away from the idea of sensationalizing everything you write. Stick to the facts and I believe that you and I will get along wonderfully. I might even include an exclusive or two in the future if that will help."

Harleen fell silent and had to consciously stop herself from holding her breath as she let the woman think. The intimidation tactics had been necessary to get Rita's attention but, even if she'd wanted to, controlling the reporter through fear and threats was not a viable, long term solution. Harleen hoped that by appealing to the woman's career, and by extension, her bank account, would be a better tactic.

_Show the stick first, then offer the carrott,_ she thought.

"What kind of stories are you talking about?"

Harleen did her very best not to grin at the poorly disguised interest in the witch's voice. "As a show of good faith, I'll give you one story to look into for free. Were you aware that Ludo Bagman was accepting bets on the outcome of the World Cup? He was even taking bets from underage witches and wizards, _and_ he currently has a bunch of goblins that have been trying to speak to him about his own unpaid gambling debts."

Rita's eyebrows slowly rose toward her hairline as Harleen spoke and she could almost see the wheels turning in the woman's head. For a Ministry Department Head to be involved in such activities, it would be quite the scandal, and quite the story, for her to break.

"On top of all that," Harleen added, drawing the reporter from her thoughts, "I know at least two people that he paid their winnings from the Cup in leprechaun gold, which I'm sure you know disappears after a few hours. I can't say for sure that he did that with anyone else, but it's certainly possible that if he did it once then he tried it on others."

Rita's smile would have fit better on a shark, showing entirely too much teeth and not nearly enough humor.

"And you have more tips like this?" she asked.

"Rita, this is quite possibly one of the _least_ explosive of the tips I can offer you."

Looking almost giddy with excitement, something that actually disturbed Harleen just a bit, Rita began digging in her bag again and quickly retrieved a normal dicta-quill.

"To be clear, as long as I can verify facts I can write whatever I want. You'll give at least two exclusives in the near future and you'll point me toward some more stories. That about sum it up?"

"To a point. My private life is private. Who I date or things like that are _not_ fodder for your paper."

"You're a very public figure-"

"And I'm entitled to my privacy," Harleen snapped.

Rita studied her closely for a long moment then shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm afraid the world doesn't work that way, my dear. People are always going to be more nosy than they should be, and it's not right, even I know that, but it's not illegal either. I'll agree to that for now, provided you let me try to change your mind at least a bit on that stance when we have more time to talk."

Harleen's eyes narrowed angrily but she gave a slow and grudging nod after a few moments of rapid thought. "You can try," she agreed, "but I won't be changing my mind."

"We'll see." Rita flicked her wand, setting a roll of parchment and her quill to float in the air beside them where they could both see what was being written. "Now, Miss Potter, since it has to be asked, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire? And, if you didn't, do you know who did, or why?"

Over the next few minutes, Harleen was reminded that when she wasn't making things up and slinging accusations, Rita _was_ actually a talented reporter. She asked pertinent, insightful questions and quickly had the entire story of her inclusion in the tournament and her change of gender down on parchment. By the time Dumbledore approached to interrupt them they were very nearly finished.

"Rita," Harleen whispered as they moved to join the others. "If you'll leave their names out of your story, I'll point you toward the two I know Bagman paid using leprechaun gold."

"I know how to protect a source."

"Fred and George Weasley. Only pair of redheaded twins in the castle. You can't miss 'em."

Silently Rita nodded and from there the rest of the ceremony proceeded much as Harleen remembered, though she wasn't paying much attention. She couldn't wait to talk to Hermione about her arrangement with Rita. This time, they would have the press on their side if she had anything to say about it.

#####

In bed that night, Harleen had only one thing running through her mind as she stared up at the underside of her canopy and waited for sleep.

She hadn't lied to Hermione.

That was one of the most important things, or so Harleen kept telling herself. The tightrope she was walking of not telling her girlfriend certain things but not expressly lying to her at the same time was difficult and frustrating and she wished she could just come out with it all, or at least she wished she'd thought to ask the Reaper _why_ she couldn't tell Hermione the truth until after Voldemort was dead.

No matter what, she still had managed to not lie to her girlfriend, and that was worth something to Harleen. When Hermione had asked that morning if the thestral's connection to death was upsetting her she _hadn't_ actually given the idea much thought. Since the bushy haired witch brought it up however, she hadn't been able to _stop_ thinking about it.

She liked Hermione's interpretation of why her patronus had changed and why that particular form. It might have been a touch idealistic, but it did help to reduce some of the sting of losing Prongs. If she was being honest with herself, since thinking it over more carefully, she felt that there was a far more likely reason for the change in her patronus, one she'd initially dismissed without really considering it.

She had died.

Died and been returned to life. She was touched by death in a way that no one else was.

She had ignored that thought at first because, according to Reaper, she'd died eleven times before this last one and her patronus had always been a stag.

_Things were different this time though, weren't they?_ she thought with an annoyed huff as she rolled onto her side beneath her blankets.

The great difference was that this time around she actually _remembered_ her death and she remembered the after life, or what she'd seen of it at least. With her previous deaths her memories had been removed, leaving her with no influence on her experiences once she'd been returned to life for another try at her destiny.

This time, she remembered dying and seeing some of what came after and in a way it was somewhat encouraging to know for certain that there actually _was_ something after her time alive was up. In the end however, she could only determine that her new connection to Death, through the memories she held, were to account for the change in her patronus.

Really, she wasn't entirely certain just how to feel about that.

#####

Tuesday morning was bright, the air crisp with the coolness of fall in Northern Scotland and there was a stunned silence in the Great Hall as students all over the room started at the front page of the_ Daily Prophet. _

_Way to go, Rita, _Harleen thought in a bemused way, unable to tear her eyes from the three front page headlines.

_**Girl-Who-Lived?**_

The first article told Harleen's story, the truth of her birth gender as well as how and why the world had been convinced that James and Lily Potter had had a son. Amazingly, it was done without embellishment or exaggeration and simply laid out the facts. The most amusing part to Harleen was the line in the article that read: '**The truth of Miss Potter's gender will likely see the breaking of young witch's hearts the length and breadth of this country. The hero they have crushed on for years does not exist, but perhaps they might find instead a heroine, a role model to look up to'.**

_I wonder how they'd feel if they knew I might still have given some of those girls a chance if it wasn't for Hermione? Can't say I like Rita setting me up as a symbol still but oh well. _

_**Fourth of Three Champions?**_

This was a much better article than the one that Rita had written the last time. It told how Harleen had not entered her own name into the goblet and that the Minister had promised to investigate the matter but, in the meantime, Harleen was bound by contract to compete whether she wanted to or not.

More than just that, instead of focusing on her, the article actually included the other champions, and spoke favorably of them. That alone could have shocked Harleen to the point that someone could have knocked her over with a feather. It was the last headline however that truly caught her attention and held it.

_**Sirius Black: Innocent!**_

**Yes, dear readers, the headline above is not a misprint, but please, allow me to set the stage. Yesterday, the 14th of November of 1994, I heard that there was going to be an emergency session of the Wizengamot, called by Director of the DMLE, Madam Amelia Bones, herself.**

**I was expected that afternoon to report on the Triwizard tournament taking place at Hogwarts (see above) but I just had to go and see what the fuss was about. Am I glad now that I did!**

**After getting the emergency session underway, all eyes turned to Director Bones for an explanation on why they were called. Imagine our collective surprise when it was revealed that we were there for the trial of Sirius Orion Black! The surprises didn't stop there, dear readers, as Director Bones went on to reveal that Mister Black never received a trial all those years ago when he was accused of betraying the Potters to You-Know-Who…**

It read like a fantastic piece of fiction. A story of friendship, loyalty, heart break, and betrayal. Harleen was so stunned that she barely registered when Hermione squealed and threw her arms around her, pulling Harleen into an ecstatic hug.

"He's free!" she practically screamed, finally pulling Harleen from her stupor.

"I can't believe it," she whispered faintly. "She actually did it. Madam Bones did it!"

It honestly took every shred of willpower that Harleen possessed not to grab her girlfriend and kiss the girl right there in the middle of the Great Hall, just out of sheer joy. Luckily, Neville provided a timely distraction when he suddenly caught her attention from across the table and pointed over their shoulders toward the doorway.

Harleen and Hermione both turned and, at the sight of Sirius standing in the entrance with Amelia and Augusta on either side of him, Harleen was out of her seat like a shot, sprinting her way up the length of the Hall. Sirius burst out laughing, spinning her around as he caught her to kill her momentum, thus preventing them both from ending up sprawled out on the stone floor.

Around them, Harleen could hear a rising murmur of conversation sweeping through the room but she really didn't care.

"It's real?" she asked, pulling back from Sirius to look up at him, smiling broadly at the amused look on his face. "Rita wasn't just making things up? You're really free?"

Sirius' grin grew even broader than it already was as he nodded his head. "It's real," he told her. "I'm officially a free man, and you have Amy here to thank for it," he added, half turning to gesture to Madam Bones.

Harleen stepped back and before she could move Amelia was holding up one hand in a stopping gesture.

"As appreciated as it might be, a hug really isn't necessary," she said, her lips quirking up into a smirk as the hand she was holding up stretched out toward her. "I was only doing my job, but if you have to express any gratitude, a handshake is more than enough."

Harleen didn't waste a second, grabbing the Amelia's hand with both of hers as she profusely thanked the woman.

"I already said you don't need to thank me."

"I do," Harleen insisted as she let go and allowed her hands drop to her sides. Absently, she noted that Hermione had come over to stand beside her and was quietly greeting Sirius with a bone crushing hug of her own. "You might say you were just doing your job, but plenty of other adults _didn't_ do theirs when we first told them that Sirius was innocent.

"We were told that no one would listen to kids and that we didn't have any proof. You listened to us. You listened, and maybe you didn't believe us right away, but you investigated. You looked into what we said instead of just dismissing us for being kids. That almost means more to me even than the mutt being free."

"Oi!" Sirius barked out indignantly. "I'll have you know that I am no mere mutt, young lady," he growled, wagging a finger admonishingly at her.

"Is there something lower than mutt?" Harleen asked innocently. "Mongrel, maybe?"

"You know I could have gotten this kind of abuse back in Azkaban, I don't need to put up with it here."

The fact that Sirius was laughing as he spoke put paid to his attempts at affront. "I'm not gonna take this abuse much longer, you know."

Before Harleen had a chance to respond, Hermione touched her arm, drawing her attention to the other witch.

"We have to get to class soon, Harleen," she said a regretful note to her voice.

"Hermione is right," Sirius cut in before Harleen could protest. "As much as I'd love to chat, I didn't really come to talk to you right at this moment, pup. I wanted to see you and let you know that I was okay, but beyond that, I _really_ wanted to speak to Dumbledore."

The harsh tone in Sirius' voice along with the glare the old Marauder directed toward the head table almost had Harleen feeling sorry for the Headmaster.

"Don't be too hard on him," she said. Leaning forward to give him another hug, she whispered in his ear, "I need to talk to you before you leave."

Almost imperceptibly he nodded his head before pulling away and flashed both girls a bright smile.

"Alright, leave the old man to the old dog," he said. "Have fun in class. Remember: 'knowledge is power'. So, learn lots and take over the world."

Both girls snorted out a laugh then quickly said their goodbyes and returned to their seats to finish eating as Sirius, Augusta, and Amelia started toward the staff table at the front of the room.

A few minutes later, as they were walking toward their first class of the day, Harleen felt, more than saw, Hermione look over at her.

"You asked Sirius to talk?"

Harleen nodded. "He needs to find the locket," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "Once he has it we'll be able to show it, and the diadem, to a group of people that we can trust, as well as Dumbledore. I think that might be the best time to lay down my ultimatum for the old man."

The fact that the Headmaster was not included with the people they could trust, Harleen felt, didn't need to be expressly stated. Her less than veiled reference would be enough for Hermione.

"Did you want me to be there?"

"Absolutely. There is no one else I would want with me other than you," Harleen told her, looking intently at the girl beside her.

Hermione smiled softly and nodded her head.

"When do you want to have this group meeting?" she asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Harleen admitted. "After the first task, I think. As far as a specific date, I can't really think of anything closer than that."

"Why wait?"

Harleen looked around, noting the many paintings lining the walls. "We don't know what the task is going to consist of," she said, keeping carefully to a normal speaking tone. "Probably best to concentrate on that for now."

Hermione nodded and Harleen could practically feel the girl tensing at the reminder that their discussion was not necessarily private, despite there being no other living beings in the area. Nothing more was said as they continued walking and before long they reached the door to their class and went inside, both of them resolved to focus on their lessons and pushing everything else of concern out of their minds until later.

#####

The days continued to pass by after that until, on Friday, the other three champions revealed that what Harleen had told them about the first task had been confirmed. Hermione was annoyed that Harleen had still refused to tell her what was involved and had even enlisted the other champions help in keeping that secret from her.

Despite that annoyance they'd used their time as wisely as they could, working with the study group in the evenings and continuing to train every morning. After seeing Harleen's dodging drills, Hermione had insisted on adding that to her routine while Harleen disappeared for an hour or so most days to meet and train with the other champions.

Finally, it was the Wednesday before the first task and Hermione had already sent Harleen to bed at nine o'clock. When Harleen protested being sent to bed like a child, Hermione's response was simple. She'd grabbed the smaller girl by her shoulders and pulled her into a deep kiss.

"Tomorrow, you are facing a dangerous task that you have adamantly refused to tell me about," she'd practically growled after breaking away from her girlfriend's lips. "I understand your reasoning, even if I don't like it or agree with it, but I love you, and I want you to be safe. Since I _can't_ keep you safe from this, I _will_ do everything I can to make sure you're as ready as you can possibly be for tomorrow.

"Part of that means you getting enough rest so that you won't be tired tomorrow while you're trying to stay alive so you can come back to me. I will be _extremely_ upset with you, Harleen Potter, if you don't come back to me in one piece, do you understand me?"

Harleen's protests died at that and she'd pulled Hermione into a tight hug, laying another lingering kiss on Hermione's lips before she went about getting ready for bed. Minutes later, after a half-dose of a dreamless sleep potion supplied by Madam Pomfrey, she was sound asleep.

An hour later found Hermione sitting in bed next to the sleeping girl, unwilling to be alone despite the fact that Harleen was asleep and completely unaware of her presence. Open on her lap rested a brown, leatherbound journal, a gift from her mother for her fifteenth birthday. She'd received a journal every year since her first year at Hogwarts and she'd written in them each year, filling their pages with her experiences at school.

She refused to even _think_ the word 'diary', feeling the term was entirely too juvenile and preferred to think of her books as journals. She would allow that, whatever she called them, the end result was the same as the book was a place for her to write her thoughts and feelings.

Tonight, she picked up her pen and addressed a growing thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind.

_November 23rd, 1994_

_Harleen isn't being completely honest with me. She warned me that she wouldn't be able to, and she's clearly trying to be as honest as she can, but I think there may be a loophole in whatever contract she says that she signed._

_She can't _tell_ me, but she never said that I'm not allowed to figure it out for myself. If I can._

Hermione paused and looked at what she'd just written, resisting the urge to scoff. Of course she would be able to figure it out. She was known as the brightest witch of her age and even if she wasn't she would still refuse to give up until she solved this mystery. The more she knew, the better she would be able to help Harleen survive what was coming.

_My biggest problem is that I don't think that I can tell Harleen what I'm doing and I hate the idea of hiding this from her. It's just, I think that if she knew about it then the contract she signed might force her to attempt to stop me. If she's being compelled to keep this information secret who knows how it could cause her to react? _

_Right now there are inconsistencies to her story, slips of the tongue that I don't think she's aware of. Each slip gives me more data to work with so I need to keep her ignorant until after I am sure of my findings. If the contract would have her try to stop me I can only confront her once. If I'm wrong, she'll tighten up her mistakes and deny me further information. I _can't_ let that happen. _

_Not to say that the things she has let slip so far are significant really. In fact, it's quite possible that I'm reading too much into things. I just have this feeling. The way she talks sometimes, there's something there._

_Sometimes she talks about remembering things that _might_ have happened but now won't. Other times she says something like 'last time this happened' or 'this time I won't let that happen' and it might seem like stretching the bounds of credibility but Harleen's own story is already pretty incredible as it is. _

Hermione paused again in her writing, her eyes drifting to the sleeping figure beside her. _That just how things tend to go, isn't it?_ she thought. _When Harleen is involved the incredible and impossible are bound to happen more often than not._

Sighing softly she turned back to her journal and continued to write.

_The thing that really strikes me is that her speech patterns are very familiar to me. I found I was often thinking and saying very similar things to myself last year when I was using a time turner to attend my lessons. The problem with that theory is that there is no known way to travel back as far as she is claiming. _

_The second problem is if she did travel back there should be two of her walking around, but that doesn't appear to be the case. She also talks about actively changing events that she _knows _have already happened, from her perspective, and the rules of time travel say that's not possible._

_Right now this is only wild conjecture as I don't have nearly enough data to form a solid hypothesis so I will have to continue to observe. I will need to listen carefully to everything she says and pay close attention to everything she does. I can only hope that she'll forgive me for doing this but I truly feel that it would be a mistake to attempt to include her with the limitations she says that she's been placed under._

_Tomorrow is the first task of this awful tournament. I'm more worried for her now than I have ever been but I have faith in her and her abilities. I just hate that I can't do more to help her. I think sometime very soon we need to get away from everyone and spend some quiet time together. I'm pretty sure that I, at least, will really need to just hold her for a while after whatever happens tomorrow. _

Setting her pen on the nightstand she slipped out of the bed and closed her journal, carrying it over to place it in the third compartment of her trunk. Wand in hand, she tapped several runes that she'd carved over the summer and a moment later the journal shimmered out of existence as the small ward scheme hid the book from detection.

She carefully closed the trunk, silently promising that she would find a more secure way to protect Harleen's secrets as soon as she could before she turned and made her way back toward the bed. Climbing in, she slipped beneath the covers and wrapped one arm around her girlfriend, pulling her as close as she could as Hermione closed her eyes and settled in to sleep.

Tomorrow would bring its own problems and worries, but for tonight she only wanted the comfort of the girl in her arms.


	14. Dangerous Discussions

**Author's notes: Here we are with another new chapter. Little bit of trivia, this chapter was cut by nearly 4k words. Just felt like it was getting to be a bit much. So, bad news, this chapter is shorter than it was originally going to be. Good news, I've got an almost 4k word head start on the next chapter. Silver lining, people.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Here is chapter 14 of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Dangerous Discussions

By,

Rtnwriter

When Harleen woke on the morning of the first task, she wasn't worried. Well, she _was_ worried, only a complete fool wouldn't be worried under the circumstances, but she was confident in her plan. It was a better plan than the one she'd used the last time at least. When she first woke up though, she was feeling warm and safe and she knew immediately that Hermione was in bed with her again.

She'd only ever felt so good upon waking on those mornings when her soul mate was wrapped around her. She carefully turned within the circle created by Hermione's arm in order to observe her bedmate and let her mind turn over a few thoughts.

It was something that she hadn't really thought much about in the last few days, the fact that she and Hermione were supposedly soul mates. She still wasn't sure exactly what that truly meant either. There just had to be more to it than the two of them simply being suited to each other, right?

_Maybe there's something in the library about soul mates? I'll have to check later._

Lost in her thoughts, Harleen didn't notice when Hermione's breathing changed and her eyes opened. She _did_ notice when a breath freshening charm hit her and her eyes focused in time to see Hermione cast the same charm on herself.

Smiling, Harleen met Hermione as the girl leaned in for a kiss.

"I think today is the first time that I really don't want to go to class," Hermione admitted softly after breaking away and letting her head rest back on the pillow. "I kind of want to just stay here and ignore the rest of the world."

"On the very long list of brilliant ideas that you've had, that has to be in the top five," Harleen whispered. "Unfortunately, we can't."

Hermione frowned. "I know," she said. "I still want to though. I don't want you to do this. I don't want to see you get hurt." Tears began spilling from the girls eyes and Harleen sat up against the headboard, gently pulling her girlfriend into her arms.

"Hey, what's all this?" she asked.

"I'm worried about you. I can't do anything to help you with this and that's all I want to do. I hate not being able to help. I hate feeling powerless and that's all I can feel with this ridiculous tournament."

"You are for more help than you realize," Harleen insisted. "Think of it this way, remember when you threatened me with severe bodily harm if I was an idiot about trying to protect you?"

A small laugh burst out of Hermione as she nodded.

"This is similar, isn't it? As much as I want to protect you from everything, I can't do that. All I can do is help you be as prepared as you can be, then trust you to be able to fight your own battles."

Hermione nodded again.

"I know," she murmured. "I know that, I'm just so tired of you being in danger and not being able to help you, and now I have to sit and just _watch_. That's going to be incredibly difficult."

"You don't have to-"

"If you try to tell me I don't have to come watch the task I _will_ be very angry with you, Harleen," Hermione snapped, lifting herself up to glare down at the smaller girl.

"Well, you don't," Harleen protested. "If it's just going to upset you then maybe you should just stay in the castle?"

"I would be a terrible friend, and a terrible girlfriend, if I didn't come to support you. As much as I hate this whole thing I will be there every step of the way!"

Harleen quickly recognized the stubborn expression on her girlfriend's face and knew that attempting to talk Hermione out of this chosen course of action would be an exercise in futility. Instead, she simply sighed in defeat and nodded her head.

A moment later a sly smile spread across her lips and one hand began to gently caress the other girl's side. "It's pretty early still, isn't it?" she asked innocently.

Hermione smirked and slid down in the bed, pulling Harleen with her until she was lying flat on her back with Hermione hovering over her. "Fairly early, I would think. Why do you ask?"

Both of Harleen's hands were now stroking up and down Hermione's sides, lifting the edge of her pajama top to let calloused fingers glide over soft skin. She lifted her head and placed a soft kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Just seems to me that, if it's early, we don't absolutely _have_ to get up quite yet, do we?" As she spoke her hands dropped to Hermione's hips, pulling her closer.

So slowly that it bordered on agonizing, Hermione lowered her body until she was very nearly lying on top of Harleen. "No, I don't think we do have to get up just yet," she whispered. "But what should we do for the next… oh, hour or so?"

"Pretty sure we'll think of something." Harleen reached up and, with her fingers tangled in the other girl's hair, drew Hermione's head down to claim her lips with her own.

Not much else was said for some time.

#####

"You 'ave been grinning all morning, you know zat, right?"

Harleen looked up from where she was sitting off to one side in the champion's tent, waiting for Bagman and the other judges to arrive. Fleur sat next to her, smiling broadly at the grin still present on Harleen face.

"I had a good morning," she said, her grin growing even wider for a moment.

Fleur let out an indelicate snort at that. "I am sure zat you did," she teased with an amused glint in her eye that didn't entirely mask the fear and apprehension the girl was obviously feeling. Fleur leaned towards Harleen and gently nudged her with one elbow. "So?" she asked. "'Oo is she?"

Harleen's mouth dropped open as she jerked back from the blond beside her. "Wh-what are you talking about?" she stammered quietly with a wary glance toward Cedric and Viktor where the two stood on the other side of the tent, talking quietly to each other.

"Do not worry about zem," Fleur reassured her. "Zey cannot 'ear us. Zat 'muffliato' spell you taught us is vairy useful, non?" Fleur was smiling in a friendly, teasing manner that did much to calm the sudden spike of apprehension that Harleen had felt.

"Yeah," she agreed. "It really is a handy little spell."

"So…?" Fleur pressed after Harleen fell silent. "Not going to tell me 'oo she is?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Fleur frowned. "You do not 'ave to tell me eef you do not want to, 'Arleen," she said, "but please, do not keep silent because you zink zat I will judge. I told you, Veela are sensual beings, plus, I am French." She added the last in a haughty tone with a little toss of her hair. "Ze French are not as… repressed as most of ze Eenglish are."

A strangled sounding laugh bubbled up out of Harleen's throat. "Okay, but I still don't see why you'd think there's a girl involved," she tried. "I could have spent some of my morning snogging one of the boys in the school." She had to fight to keep a look of disgust off of her face as she said that.

Fleur burst out into a musical peal of laughter, her head thrown back in mirth.

"Oh… oh, 'Arleen," she gasped, "I _might_ 'ave almost believed zat eef you did not look as eef you were about to sick up all over your shoes."

Harleen let out an exasperated sigh. _Hermione is going to kill me._

"Do not be upset," Fleur continued. "Not everyone would be able to tell."

"Plenty of people have already figured me out," Harleen hissed. "My professor, three of my Quidditch team mates, my godfather, now you!"

"You are 'oo you are, 'Arleen. Why do you try to 'ide?"

"Because people in this country are generally less than accepting of people like me, Fleur. I know it's impossible to avoid it ever getting out, but we wanted some time before people start making our lives difficult."

Fleur frowned, her lips pursed in disapproval. "I zink zat you should ignore zese people and be wiz ze one zat you love," she grumbled, "but I will not press anymore eef you wish for me to let eet be."

Harleen offered a grateful smile at that and nodded her head.

"I'd appreciate that, Fleur. I don't like having to hide it, it's just…"

"People do not know when to keep zere noses out of zings zat do not concern zem," Fleur finished the thought. "I will not say anyzing, you 'ave my word."

Relieved, and determined to talk to Hermione as soon as she could about their situation, Harleen relaxed some and the two fell into small talk, neither wanting to discuss what was waiting for them in the arena. Eventually, Bagman and the judges arrived and Fleur dispelled the muffliato that she'd cast as they went about selecting their dragons.

The selection went nearly exactly as Harleen remembered it and she wound up holding the small statue of the Hungarian Horntail with the number four hanging around its neck. With their dragons in hand, Bagman went through the information and Harleen ignored him when he attempted to pull her aside, just as he'd done last time. She realized now that he was probably laying bets on her performance in the tasks, hoping to recoup from his gambling losses and she had absolutely no wish to help him in any way.

Less than a minute after the man left, Fleur placed a hand on Harleen's shoulder, drawing her attention only to direct her toward the side of the tent with an elegant seeming nod of her head. Turning to look where the lovely French witch indicated, Harleen was surprised to see Hermione standing outside the tent, nervously wringing her hands.

Striding quickly over, Harleen ducked out of the tent and lead her girlfriend a few steps to the side so they would be out of view of the other champions.

"What is it?" she asked of the nervous looking girl.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be here, I just… they built an arena! It's like Roman gladiators out there! I was already worried, but now I'm terrified. Pease, what the hell do they have the four of you do-"

Harleen blinked as Hermione's rambling suddenly cut off, her worried gaze wide and directed down at Harleen's hand. The hand that was still holding the miniature of the Hungarian Horntail.

"Harleen?" Hermione asked in a disturbingly calm tone of voice, her face expressionless.

"Uh… yes, Hermione?"

"Is that a statue of a dragon you're holding?"

Harleen winced. "Urm… yes… Hermione," she said, unwilling to even attempt to lie to the girl.

"Right… _why_ are you holding a statue of a dragon?" Hermione asked, her tone leaving 'calm' in the dust and edging toward 'shrill' at an alarming rate.

"I don't have to fight it!" Harleen quickly attempted to assure her girlfriend. "I just have to steal… well, steal an egg from… from her nest," she finished weakly, realizing, even as she said it, that this would do absolutely nothing to calm or reassure Hermione.

The fact that Hermione quickly began to hyperventilate, her complexion going disturbingly pale, proved that realization as accurate and Harleen wrapped her arms around the swiftly panicking, taller girl.

"I swear to you, I will be fine. I've done this before, I know what I'm doing and I have a better plan in mind than I did last time. This overgrown lizard is _not_ going to take me from you."

She kept her voice as calm as possible, letting out an almost unconscious stream of reassurances as she held her trembling girlfriend as tightly as she could. Hermione, in turn, was clinging to Harleen with an almost punishing degree of strength that Harleen bore without complaint.

"I can't begin to tell you how much I utterly_ loathe_ this damn tournament," Hermione finally hissed in Harleen's ear.

Drawing back slightly, Harleen pressed her lips to the other girls. "I know, love," she whispered, staring deep into tear filled cinnamon eyes. "I know you hate it, just trust me, I have this under control. I promise."

Hermione drew her into a needy, almost desperate feeling kiss, and Harleen responded with an equal fervor for a few seconds. Their kiss broke, and they practically sprang apart, when a bright flash of light went off from a few feet away, Hermione letting out a startled shriek in the process.

Harleen snarled furiously, her wand snapping into her hand.

"Accio camera! Reducto!"

A large, bulky looking camera was ripped from the hands of a shabbily dressed wizard only for it to be blasted into tiny pieces mid-flight.

"Was that really necessary?" Rita asked, a reproachful expression on her face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the photographer snapped angrily. "That's private property you just destroyed!"

"Bill me," Harleen growled, her wand trained on him. "I thought we had an agreement, Rita."

"We do. As long as what I write is factual you have no room to really complain."

"My private life is not for other people to read about in the damn paper!" Harleen snapped.

"If you wanted this to be private then the two of you shouldn't have been kissing out here, in public," Rita pointed out dryly. She turned, ignoring the wand that was now pointing at her to address the man beside her. "Go get your back up camera and get in the stands. I'll meet you there. Oh, and not a word of this to anyone, understand?"

"But she-"

"Do you understand, Bozo? I'll be talking to Miss Potter about this, believe me. I don't want you letting anything slip where someone else might be able to scoop us. Just go get your camera, hurry up."

Glaring balefully at Harleen the wizard slowly turned and made his way up the path toward the freshly built arena. Once he was out of sight Rita turned her attention back to the two girls, ignoring the wand still pointed at her.

"Look, Harleen," she said. "I told you I agreed with your conditions, _under_ the condition that you gave me a chance to change your mind on your stance. We haven't had an opportunity to have that conversation but I think we need to have it sooner, now, then later."

"I don't care. I told you, you can try, but you're not going to change my mind."

"What is it you're trying to change her mind on exactly, Miss Skeeter," Hermione interjected, finally overcoming her shock at the interruption.

"Miss Granger, right?" Rita asked, turning her attention to Hermione and ignoring the way that Harleen growled and interposed herself between the girl and the reporter. "I've heard you mentioned before. Potter's best friend since first year, right?"

"That's right."

"Maybe you can get through to her then. Your friend doesn't want her private life being written about in the papers, but she _is_ a public figure."

"That doesn't give people the right to know everything about her. She's entitled to privacy and some peace and quiet, isn't she?"

"Of course she is, but the public doesn't see it that way, even if they're wrong. How do you think I've made my career? By reporting news that is no one else's business, for the most part."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Harleen snapped.

"Let me talk to you after the task, both of you. I think you need a little lesson in how the world works."

"Why would you want to help us?" Harleen asked suspiciously.

"I may not have liked how you dealt with me at the Weighing of the Wands, but I _do_ respect how you handled yourself. You can't get every other reporter out there to be willing to work with you like you managed to do with me, so let me try to change your mind. I won't write anything about what I just saw right now, yet, but you need to give me that chance to talk to you."

Harleen opened her mouth, ready to utterly tear into the woman in front of her, when the words died in her throat as a hand landed on her wrist and gently pushed her wand down. Surprised, she turned to look at Hermione.

"You need to focus on the task, Harleen," she said, her eyes fixed on Rita. "Worry about that and let me worry about this."

"There's nothing to worry about, I'm not-"

"Harleen, please! Focus on the task. Miss Skeeter-"

"Rita, please, dear," Rita interrupted.

"_Miss_ Skeeter," Hermione continued firmly, "you'll get your chance to change Harleen's mind, but right now your presence is a distraction that Harleen can't afford. Please leave, and we will speak to you tomorrow. Expect a message from Sirius Black with the time and place to meet us."

Pleased with herself, Rita made a hasty exit at that point, making her way back up the path toward the stadium as Harleen turned to more fully face her girlfriend.

"What was that all about?" she demanded. "I don't want any part of having our personal life plastered all over that rag that she calls a paper."

"When she's on our side, isn't she worth her salt as a reporter?" Hermione asked.

"How do you mean?"

"The articles that she wrote after she spoke to you at the wand weighing. They were impartial, well written, informative. Basically, they were _good_ articles. And I don't want to waste time right now trying to convince you of this since you need to focus, Harleen, so just leave it be for now. We'll talk about it later. I'm sitting by Sirius in the stands. Neville, the twins, and Ginny are sitting by us too, so just look for the noisiest group in the lot and you'll find us, no problems."

Harleen couldn't help a small grin at Hermione's description. With Sirius and the Weasley twins in the same location, she could only imagine the chaos that could happen.

"I still don't like-"

"Just let it go, love," Hermione cut in. "Trust me, I have an idea in mind, I just want to think it over and this gives me something to do," she ducked her head and looked at the younger girl through her bangs, "Please? I need something else to focus on other than what you're going to be facing out there."

Letting out a resigned sigh, Harleen nodded her head. "Fine. I still don't think it's necessary, but if it helps you, then fine." She leaned in, lifting up on her toes slightly to press another kiss to her girlfriend's lips before she dropped back and made her way back toward the tent. "I'll see you right after the task, whole and healthy," she swore just before she ducked her way back into the tent.

She blinked several times as her eyes readjusted to the dimly lit interior, as compared to the bright sunlight outside, and slowly made her way back over to her previous seat, dropping into it with a long sigh that drew the other champions attention to her where they were each sitting in various spots around the tent.

"I hate waiting," she muttered and across the tent, Viktor let out a loud snort of laughter.

"Vaiting is the vorst," he agreed. "I alvays feel as if I be sick, vaiting for a game to start."

"Got a herd of Hippogriffs doing loops in my stomach," Cedric agreed while Fleur nodded her head from a seat next to the Hufflepuff.

Grinning, Harleen fished around inside her robes for a moment and came up with a deck of playing cards.

"Anyone up for a round?" she asked in a hopeful tone.

"Do those cards haff charms against cheating?" Viktor asked, his own tone curious as he moved away from the wall of the tent and started toward her.

Harleen frowned. "Probably not? They're just a regular deck of muggle playing cards."

Snorting out another laugh, Viktor drew his wand and conjured a small, square table and four chairs. Sitting, he held out his hand for the deck.

"Come," he said. "I teach charms, and maybe teach to play Poker, if ve haff time."

Curiously, the rest of them approached and sat at the table, nerves briefly forgotten as they set about learning something new while they waited.

#####

Hermione slid into a seat in the front row between Neville and Sirius and was grateful when the older wizard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She gave Sirius a shaky smile, noting that he looked just as worried as she felt, even though he was trying to hide it. He looked much better than he had when they'd first met him, less gaunt, cleaner and more put together. His still poor health, however, meant that his pasty complexion and the bags under his eyes stood out in sharp relief on his face, despite the broad smile he had plastered on.

"You're not fooling anyone, Sirius," she told him with a sad smile. "You look as awful as I feel."

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or not that a pretty young girl thinks I look awful." His grin became a bit more genuine as he leaned down toward her to whisper in her ear. "Of course, even if the age difference wasn't enough, I know I've got the wrong equipment and that you're taken by someone much prettier than me, so I'll accept the sentiment in the spirit of concern for my health that I'm sure it was offered."

Hermione glared at him and swatted at his shoulder, causing him to burst out laughing for a moment.

"Seriously though. I'm not happy about this in the slightest. Is this how you've felt over the last few years? Constantly watching her get thrown into this dangerous crap, and you stuck there, helpless to do anything more than you've already done to try to help her?"

"Pretty much, yeah," she admitted with a pained expression on her face. "We've helped as much as we've been able to in the past. Me and Ron, mostly, but in the end it's always come down to her. She's always faced whatever situation it was alone."

Sirius placed one arm around her shoulders. "Not always," he said so softly that she almost wasn't able to hear him over the general din of the crowd. "Last year she wasn't alone when the two of you were saving my life. She had you with her, and that made all the difference in the world."

Around them the noise of the crowd grew, drawing their attention and both Sirius and Hermione looked up to see Ludo Bagman standing at the front of the judge's box, hands raised to the crowd and a huge smile on his face.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath as he pointed his wand at his throat and cast a Sonorous.

"Here we go," she whispered.

_Please. Please come back to me. _

#####

One by one, the champions were called to complete their tasks. Harleen wanted to listen. She wanted to try to keep track of what was happening with her new friends, but the lion's share of her focus was on herself and her own plan.

_This is a better plan than I had last time, _she tried to reassure herself. _Just flying against the Horntail before was only half a plan, at best. No injuries. Not this time. _

Despite her confidence that she would be able to complete this task, there was no denying the spike of fear in her chest, or the churning acid in her gut.

Before she realized it, it was her turn. Standing, she lifted her head high and made her way out of the tent, her wand clasped tightly in one clammy, trembling hand.

#####

_Oh my God…_

"She looks so_ small_," Sirius said, unintentionally finishing the thought that had first raced through Hermione's mind when she saw Harleen exit the tunnel into the stadium. Really they were right. Even before she changed, Harleen hadn't exactly been tall for her age, but now, she looked positively tiny compared to the massive bulk of the dark death machine the handlers had chained in place inside the stadium.

The first three dragons hadn't been nearly as big, they hadn't been nearly as aggressive, and despite the fact that her girlfriend was going to be facing a bloody _dragon_, of all things, she'd begun to feel a little better about the whole situation, especially after watching how easily Fleur, Cedric, and Viktor handled their own dragons. The moment that massive monster had been led into the stadium though, all her fears and worries had shot through the roof and Hermione found herself gripping Sirius' hand as tightly as she could, barely holding onto her self control.

On her other side Neville was quietly muttering a string of curses that she didn't have the heart to even attempt to scold him for. In fact, she almost thought she might join him.

"Merlin's bloody beard," one of the twins blurted out from behind them.

"How is Harleen going to deal with something like _that_?" the second twin asked in an aghast tone.

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned slightly to let Ginny know that she was listening but she absolutely refused to take her eyes off the tiny figure of her girlfriend.

"Harleen must have told you what she was planning, right? I mean, you probably helped her come up with a plan, you're the brightest witch in the school, you had to have helped her?"

Slowly, Hermione shook her head.

"Harleen wouldn't let me help," she croaked out. "She promised me that she had a good plan, but I have no idea what it is."

Ludo called for the task to begin and Hermione slid forward onto the very edge of her seat, her heart leaping into her throat as Harleen raised one hand and shouted out a spell that she couldn't hear over the noise of the crowd.

#####

_Come on,_ Harleen thought, her eyes never leaving the dragon in front of her. _Damn, she looks even bigger than she did last time… or maybe that's just because I'm smaller? Fucking Dursleys._

A moment later a grin split her lips and she looked up as a whistling sound reached her ears, just in time to see her Firebolt come swooping in from the direction of the castle to come to a stop hovering right in front of her.

"Yes!" she couldn't help but cry, a sense of elation flooding through her. Grabbing the broom in her left hand she warily moved to the side, keeping a careful watch on the dragon where it sat hunched over its nest as it watched her with a frightening intensity.

"Okay," she muttered as she attempted to take a calming breath. "This is going to be the hard part."

Closing her eyes, knowing that she was far enough away to be out of range of the dragon's fire, she lifted her wand in her right hand, still clutching the broom in her left as she carefully intoned the words to a spell only recently learned.

"Quinque gradus replicationem," she said as she swept her wand through the motions of the spell. A tingling sensation settled over her as the spell took hold and Harleen slowly opened her eyes, grinning broadly as the first part of her plan took effect.

#####

"Her broom?" Sirius questioned as the item came to a stop in front of his goddaughter. "That's… I'm not sure if that's brilliant or insane," he admitted.

"No one beats Harleen on a broom," one of the twins crowed excitedly. "She's gonna outfly that giant lizard! It's brilliant."

"No…" Hermione trailed off, watching as Harleen didn't immediately mount the broom and take to the sky.

Beside her, Sirius turned his attention to her, a confused expression on his face. "Hermione?" he asked.

"She's not flying. I mean, she isn't already in the air. The broom landed a minute ago, why wouldn't she be in the air already if that's all she was going to do?" she asked.

Down in the arena Harleen was waving her wand through the motions of a spell. A spell that Hermione didn't recognize in the slightest.

"She's planning something else."

Spell apparently completed, Harleen lowered her wand and even from where they were sitting in the stands, Hermione could clearly see the broad grin that broke out on her girlfriend's face as she lifted her right foot and slowly took a single step forward.

Then another.

And another.

In all, Harleen took five careful, deliberate steps forward but the thing that had the audience gasping in shock was that, for each step she took, she left another Harleen Potter behind her.

The visual effect was unusual. One moment, Harleen was standing there, quite alone, then it was almost like another Harleen took a step out of the one standing on the sand. Five steps later there were six Harleen Potters in the arena, each with a wand and a broom clutched in their hands, and each looking completely real and solid, as far as Hermione could tell.

"What the hell kind of a spell was that?" Sirius demanded.

Shaking her head, Hermione remained silent, unsure how exactly to respond, but for the first time since the Horntail had been brought out, she was beginning to feel a sense of hope that Harleen just might make it out of this situation in one piece.

#####

"Woah, okay, that took a bit more out of me than I expected," Harleen muttered, a wave of dizziness passing over her for a moment. She grimaced and shrugged it off, turning to face the five illusionary copies of herself that she'd just created. "Damn if it didn't work though," she said.

The five replicants that she'd just created smiled at her in an eerie unison and spread out until they stood in a single line facing her, soldiers waiting to receive their orders.

"Okay," she said, pausing to wipe the beads of sweat that had accumulated on her forehead. "Not going to be able to hold this for long, so let's go."

At her mental command, the five copies surged forward and surrounded her, the six of them milling about until, as one, they each mounted their broom and shot into the air.

#####

"Fuck a duck!" Sirius blurted out when the six versions of his goddaughter burst into the air, each splitting off in a different direction.

"What was that all about?" Ginny demanded in a worried tone.

"Mixing around like that confused things," Hermione spoke up, absently, her eyes focused on one particular image of her girlfriend as she swooped and dove through the air, all six of them harassing and annoying the dragon hunched protectively over its nest. "By coming close together and milling around that way it's almost impossible to tell which of them is the real Harleen anymore. Most of the people here probably have no idea where she actually is in all that," she added, flinging one hand forward the gesture to the six figures as they sped through the air.

"It's smart," Neville noted. "I don't know how she did it, but creating those copies will make it harder for the dragon to know who to focus on."

"Not entirely."

Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and the twins turned their attention to Sirius who was staring intently at the battle taking place on the sand.

"What do you mean, Sirius?" Hermione demanded.

"Dragons don't just use their eyes to spot prey. They're apex predators, they pretty much have no natural enemies in the world, save for magicals. Hagrid could probably tell us more but I seem to remember that they use their sense of smell and hearing as much as most beings use their eyes, plus their vision actually is capable of detecting wavelengths that human eyes can't."

"S-so… what does that mean?" Neville stammered out.

"It means," Hermione started, swallowing thickly as a wave of terror washed over her, "that the dragon probably knows exactly which of those copies out there is the real Harleen."

#####

_Crap, crap, crap, crap_, Harleen thought as she jerked her broom in a tight turn, corkscrewing around a jet of flames. She ducked down, plastering her body as close to the handle of her broom as she could, dove under the dragon's head, out the other side, and shot up into the air until she was hovering a hundred feet above the arena.

"Why isn't this working?" she muttered, watching the Horntail glare at her and ignore the five copies of her that were still swooping and flitting about her head and body. "The copies aren't fooling her, she knows where I am. Dammit!"

Lifting her right hand she flicked her wrist and caught her wand as it shot out of her sleeve. A quick wave dispelled the illusions.

"So much for having a better plan!" she suddenly shouted at the dragon, glaring balefully at the creature as if it was her fault.

In the next moment, Harleen nearly fell off her broom as a deep, feminine voice seemed to fill the arena.

**"It isn't my fault that you don't pay attention in class, little witchling."**

#####

Hermione let out a panicked shriek when Harleen suddenly bobbled in the air, briefly losing control of her broom.

"Merlin this woman is going to give me a heart attack," she groaned after her girlfriend steadied herself and managed to remain in the air though she appeared to be extremely startled.

"You and me both, sister," Sirius said as he blew out a relieved breath. "I really don't know how much of this kind of thing I can take."

Behind them, Ginny and the twins, joined by the Flying Foxes, were screaming their heads off.

"Come on, Harry!"

"Show that overgrown salamander you don't mess with a lion!"

Sirius and Hermione exchanged a look.

"I'll help you kill them if you help me hide the bodies?" he offered to which she could only offer a weak grin.

"They're just excited, not enough reason to kill them… yet."

"What's Dumbledore doing?"

At the sound of Neville's question, she turned back toward the arena and the judges box to see the Headmaster standing at the small railing at the front of the box. Raising his wand he swept it in a wide circle while his lips moved through the incantation of some spell.

#####

"What in the name of…"

**"Why are you here?"**

"Yipe!" Harleen jerked up on the handle of her broom, rising a dozen feet into the air as a jet of flames came uncomfortably close to the bottoms of her shoes.

"Who is that?" she shouted, head twisting back and forth in search of the person that belonged to that voice.

**"So, it's not just a lack of attention, but a deficiency of intelligence? Disappointing."**

Eyebrows climbing rapidly toward her hairline, Harleen looked down at the dragon below her.

"Are you…"

Her question died as the horntail began to shake, a deep rumbling sound echoing out of her throat. It took all of five seconds for her to realize the dragon was _laughing_ at her.

**"Definitely low intelligence."**

_§Hey! I may not be a genius, like Hermione, but I'm not stupid,§_ she snapped, entirely unaware that she'd slipped into Parseltongue.

**"Hermione? Is that the one with the wild hair?" **The horntail's head turned toward the stands where Hermione and the rest of their friends were sitting for a moment before turning back to look up at Harleen again. **"Her scent is all over you, little witchling."**

_§What does that have to do with anything?§_ A moment later, Harleen blinked and shook her head. "I can't believe I'm actually _talking_ to a dragon," she muttered incredulously.

**"She is important to you, this 'Hermione'?"**

Harleen's eyes narrowed angrily and she dropped a dozen feet through the air, coming closer to the dragon.

_§I really hope you aren't threatening my girlfriend,§ _she hissed furiously.

The dragon laughed again. **"Yes, definitely important to you, and no, I am not threatening your mate. As important as she is to you, my clutch is even more important to me, so I hope that impresses upon you how serious I am. I still want to know why you're here. Why have I been brought here? What is it that you want?"**

#####

"She's actually _talking_ to the bloody dragon?" Sirius blurted out, aghast.

"Apparently," Hermione responded, just as dumbfounded as the wizard beside her. Whatever spell Dumbledore had been casting, it had made it possible for everyone in the stadium to hear what Harleen was saying, not that they'd honestly been able to understand most of what was being said. Harleen had only spoken two, maybe three times in English and the entire rest of her discussion had devolved into Parseltongue.

Strangely enough, they couldn't hear the dragon, either in Parseltongue or anything else.

"Why can't we hear the dragon?" Neville asked in a confused tone, his expression matching his voice.

Hermione could only shrug helplessly. "I don't know. Maybe her voice is just too low for regular human ears to be able to hear her?"

"Talking is good, right?" Ginny asked, leaning forward until her head was stuck between Neville and Hermione, a worried expression on her face. "Talking means Harleen might be able to convince the dragon to give her the egg."

"I'd like to think so, but we all know that Harleen isn't exactly the most diplomatic person in the world, is she? Talking _is_ good, I'm just worried she'll say something to make the horntail angry."

#####

"**They have done all this, dragged the four of us, and our young, across the world, just for a competition?"**

Before today, Harleen hadn't known that a dragon could _be_ incredulous, much less sound it, but there it was. This dragon was clearly dumbfounded that wizards had gone to so much trouble for something so small.

_§Pretty much. I've been saying it for a long time, wizards are stupid.§_

Below her the dragon appeared to be eyeing her skeptically.

"**What is the purpose of this competition, then?" **she asked.

_§It's supposed to promote international friendships and show off the 'honor' of our school, or something. I am being forced to compete against my will,§_ Harleen explained as calmly as she could. _§I didn't ask to be here, and I don't _want_ to be here, but I have no choice in the matter. If I do not compete I will lose my magic.§_

The dragon suddenly reared back and let loose a thunderous roar.

"**These fools have wagered the essence of the competitors?"** she bellowed as Harleen clapped her hands over her ears at the sudden, and painful, volume the horntail reached in her fury. **"They would risk destroying that which makes you witchlings and wizardlings what you are? Without your magic, you would be like a dragon without her wings!"**

_§Preaching to the choir, sister,§_ Harleen said with a derisive snort. _§So, in their infinite wisdom, the morons running this show have placed a fake egg in your nest. I am supposed to steal it from you and it has a clue to the next task. I swear that I do not want to hurt you, or your young at all. Again, I didn't want to be here, but I have no choice in the matter.§_

The dragon tilted her head, studying Harleen with an eye nearly as large as the witch herself was.

"**I imagine you are hoping that I will simply **_**give**_** you this false egg?"**__

Harleen shrugged.

_§The thought did cross my mind,§ _she admitted.

Several long seconds passed in silence as the dragon studied her.

"**Did you know that one cannot lie in the Noble Tongue?"**

Harleen blinked in confusion.

_§The what now?§_

"**The Noble Tongue? The language of serpents and reptiles that we have been speaking this entire time?"**

For the first time the dragon sounded confused and Harleen found herself blinking again, this time with a sense of consternation. She suddenly sat up straight on her broom and looked around wildly, only now realizing that the crowd that had been making a significant amount of noise had gone utterly silent, every single eye fixed unerringly on her and with most of them wearing expressions ranging from disbelief, to outright horror.

_§Oh… crap. This isn't going to be good,§_ she sighed, letting her face drop into her hands.

Grabbing her broom she pressed it down, diving for the floor of the arena and quickly dismounted some twenty feet away from the dragon to sit on a small boulder with a sigh, her broom leaning against the rock beside her.

"**Why is this not good? It is a rare gift for one of your kind to be able to speak the Noble Tongue. You should be honored to have this ability."**

Harleen winced and rubbed one hand across her face. The dragon sounded annoyed by her reaction even as she shifted, resting back on her haunches as she hovered protectively over her nest.

_§I didn't realize that I was speaking in the Noble Tongue.§_ Harleen frowned and paused for a moment. _§Noble Tongue. Noble Tongue.§_

"Seriously? I can't say 'Parseltongue' in Parseltongue?" she muttered incredulously.

"**Explain yourself."**

_§Right, sorry.§ _Harleen quickly shifted her attention back to the dragon. _§There have been very few humans with the ability to speak the Noble Tongue,§ _she started, _§and invariably the ones that are the most well known have all been very bad people. The large majority of wizards and witches in this country see it as a 'dark' gift. They are immediately distrustful of someone that can speak it and will tend to assume that one who can is dangerous.§_

"**A speaker **_**is**_** dangerous,"**__the dragon declared. **"There is magic that can be done, spoken in the Noble Tongue, that is more powerful than that which you humans normally use. A spell cast in the language of serpents cannot be undone unless also attempted in the language of serpents."**

That certainly got Harleen's attention and she leaned forward on her rock. _§Do you mean that if I cast a stunner in the Noble Tongue, that no one would be able to revive them unless they also cast in the same language?§_

"**Precisely."**

"Oh… well, _that's_ interesting," she muttered, leaning back again on her seat as she considered the implications of that piece of information. There appeared to be an entire avenue of magic that she might need to study. It could give her quite the advantage against her enemies.

_§Is there any way I can convince you to give me the false egg that is amongst your clutch?§ _she asked hopefully. _§I would really rather not continue to fight over it with you if there is any way to avoid it.§_

**"As I already said, it is impossible to say something that is not true when speaking the Noble Tongue. I believe that you do not wish my young any harm. However why should I give up something for nothing?"**

Harleen sighed and shrugged helplessly. _§I wish I could offer something in payment, but I don't know what I could possibly give you.§_

"**There is little that a dragon wants that any human could possibly provide,"**__said the dragon in a rather condescending tone.

"I figured as much," Harleen grumbled to herself.

"**I am a **_**Dragon**_**, little witchling. Dragons are not materialistic like you humans. We do not need... 'things'."** She said the word 'things' with such disdain that Harleen couldn't help but let out a short, barking laugh.

_§Even if there were something that I could offer you, I don't know what I have available. I have no idea if I have property maybe you could live on, or the finances to buy something that you did want, whatever it might have been. Maybe I could talk to the handlers on the reserve about your living conditions? Are you happy with how you are all being treated? Do you have room for yourself and your young to stretch your wings?§_

"**The wizardlings and witchlings care for us quite well,"** she admitted. **"We are allowed to be wild, instead of them attempting to domesticate us, but it is… nice, having them nearby in case something untoward happens and we require assistance."**

Not that Harleen wished that the dragons were being mistreated or something, but it would have made things easier if she could have talked to Charlie and the rest of his team to offer suggestions on how to make things better.

She leaned back on her seat again, hands behind her on the stone to support her upper body as she considered the massive creature in front of her. _Think, Potter,_ she admonished herself. _Think. You can't fight your way out of this one, not anymore. Who knew that Dragons could speak? It's not her fault that she's here any more than it is yours so either of us getting hurt, or her eggs getting damaged… simply not an option. But what can I do? She doesn't want to just give up the egg for nothing but she doesn't know what she wants and I don't have a clue what to offer. _

Sighing she slumped back the rest of the way until she was lying on her back, staring up at the bright blue sky above with a dejected air about her, her arms splayed out to her sides. "If only I knew Legilimency, maybe I could enter her mind and find out what she most needs," she muttered under her breath.

She lay there in silence for several seconds as the crowd began to grow restless around her. _Yeah, yeah, keep your hats on people. I'm doing my best out here. All my planning went right out the window…_ "OH!"

Sitting up sharply she stared wide eyed at the dragon.

"I think I know a way to find out what you want."

Shaking her head she tried again. _§I think I know how to find out what you want,§_ she said excitedly.

The dragon tilted her large head to one side, eyeing Harleen speculatively.

"**What are you referring to, little witchling?"**

#####

Watching her girlfriend converse with a multi-tonne apex predator while floating in mid air on a flimsy piece of wood was somewhat nerve wracking. When Harleen went and landed on the ground just twenty feet away from the massive beast, Hermione's nerves were officially shot. Then the girl sat down on a boulder, broom leaning beside her and with no sign of her wand!

"She's honestly going to be the death of me. I swear, she's _trying _to just destroy every last one of my nerves."

"I'm sure she knows what she's doing," Sirius attempted to reassure her, though he didn't sound particularly convinced, himself.

"You realize, if she dies, I'm going to kill her."

Sirius chose not to respond to the impossibility of that particular statement and instead simply wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side.

"Is my goddaughter stupid?" he suddenly asked as Harleen and the dragon continued to parley down on the sand.

"What?" Hermione jerked upright against him, half pulling away to turn and look incredulously at the former marauder. "Of course not. She's very smart to be honest, she just hasn't always put in the kind of effort that she's capable of."

"So, if she's not stupid, then we can assume she's not being stupid out there with her safety right now, correct?"

Hermione frowned, turning back to the scene in the arena.

"Maybe? Probably, actually. But while she's smart and everything, she _is_ usually pretty reckless in regards to her own welfare and safety. She doesn't always seem to realize that something she's doing could easily get her killed, she just does it because she thinks it's the right thing to do."

"If she thought she was in danger from that dragon do you think she'd be that close to her? Or would Harleen keep her distance? At the very minimum she'd be astride that broom and ready to take off at a moment's notice, right?"

"Potter's going to get herself killed out there, the stupid bint!"

"Put a sock in it, Parkinson!"

Hermione and Sirius both turned in their seats to face the row of three Weasleys and three Gryffindor Chasers behind them and one row further up sat Pansy Parkinson with Crabbe and Goyle on either side of her, as they glowered at everyone around them, except for Sirius. Even they weren't stupid enough to try to appear threatening to an adult wizard the caliber of Sirius Black. More than a decade in prison or not, he had been a world class dueler in his youth and fought on the front lines in the first Blood War.

"She's actually laying down, just waiting for that dragon to roast her," Parkinson practically crowed, pointing gleefully down into the arena.

Hermione couldn't help herself. She spun back around to look and did indeed find her girlfriend lying on her back on the rock she'd chosen for a seat. She wasn't paying any attention whatsoever to the mass of teeth, scales, spikes, and claws with combustible halitosis that was crouched right in front of her.

Suddenly, Harleen popped up into a sitting position, letting out a startled 'OH!' that burst out over the audience, thanks to the Headmaster's spell that allowed them to hear what was going on down on the sand.

"I think I know a way to find out what you want."

Harleen's voice had dropped to a low murmur, before she suddenly shook her head and spoke in Parseltongue again, probably repeating what she'd just said for the dragon's benefit, Hermione thought.

Raising her wand, Harleen stood and closed her eyes in concentration.

"Anyone want to bet if the dragon will roast her, or simply swallow her whole?" Pansy asked, giggling irritatingly and otherwise ignoring the glares and scowls being directed at her by the vast majority of people around them. "I've got ten galleons on death by dragon fire."

Down on the sand, Harleen's mouth opened and she carefully spoke the words to an incantation that had a ripple of muted conversation sweeping through the crowd.

"Accio Sorting Hat."

#####

Harleen smiled when the hat landed in her hands and she ignored the murmuring of the crowd to lift it up and set it down on her head, the brim dropping low over her eyes and obscuring her view.

_Are you awake?_ she thought.

Several seconds passed by in silence save for the noise of the audience and then she suddenly felt a presence against her mind, mental fingers stretching out to touch her awareness.

_Well… isn't this interesting. It's been some time, Miss Potter. I must say, I don't usually speak to a student more than once, just when they're sorted into their House. This makes the fourth occasion that we've encountered each other…_

The voice in her head trailed off and she felt a spike of surprise.

_Well, well, well… you certainly have had quite the adventure, haven't you, young lady?_

Harleen almost smiled but managed not to. _I'm beginning to think that I'm just never going to be allowed to have a normal, quiet life,_ she admitted ruefully.

_No, I dare say you will not. I haven't encountered a time traveler such as yourself in some time… oh, five hundred years or so, I'd say._

Harleen balked at that, blinking in surprise beneath the brim of the hat. _Others have gone back like I have?_

_I can't say who,_ the hat responded, _but you would not be the first person to be on their last chance with the after life. Why do you think the rule was created to allow the Last Chance Clause in the first place? Others have needed it before you._

She let out a sigh. _It's nice to know I'm not alone, at least. I was feeling kind of… incompetent, for aparently dying so many times before. I wasn't sure I was really up to this whole destiny that's supposed to be in front of me._

The hat made a scoffing sound that almost seemed to echo inside her mind. _A destiny wouldn't be placed in front of someone that didn't have the capacity to complete it. You simply had too many outside forces working against you at the time. I'm glad that you found your proper gender, it will make completing your destiny easier. I really wanted to say something when I looked into your head at your Sorting but it wasn't for me to tell you._

Harleen shrugged. _I'm not sure I would have believed you back then. I was so new to the idea of magic that I wouldn't have known what to think. _

_Very true. But you didn't summon me from my shelf in the Headmaster's office to reminisce. What can I do for you today, Miss Potter?_

_Shouldn't you already know? You're inside my head aren't you?_

The hat scoffed again. _Well of course I know. I can see the whole plan, here in your head. Most people tend to get a bit disconcerted when I know things they haven't explained for themselves._

Harleen shrugged again, leaning back on her seat as she did so, her feet kicking idly in front of her. _It'd save time if I don't have to explain what I'm thinking. Do you think you can do it? Will there be any kind of language barrier?_

_I can connect to any sentient mind,_ the hat said, sounding affronted that she appeared to doubt its abilities. _Place me on her head and I'll find what she's looking for. _

Happily, Harleen jumped up, a broad grin spreading over her lips. _Thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. And…_

_I won't be telling anyone about your trip to your past or anything else that I saw inside your mind, never you worry. I keep the confidence of everyone that I've ever sat on and would never break that._

Nodding quickly she thanked the hat again before sweeping it off her head and turning her attention to the dragon, who was watching her calmly, if curiously.

"Uhhh…"

Hat in hand, it suddenly occurred to her that she needed to place a magical item on the head of one of the most deadly magical creatures on the face of the planet.

**"What troubles you, little witchling?"**

_§Well, I have an idea, but suddenly trying to do what I wanted to do… kind of terrifies me to no end,§_ she admitted ruefully and the dragon snorted, expelling a relatively small cloud of smoke and soot. 'Relatively small' meaning it only completely enveloped Harleen, hiding her entire body from view, as opposed to hiding half the arena.

In the stands she heard a panicked shriek and promised herself that she would do something _really_ nice for Hermione as soon as she could to make up for the stress this was putting on her poor girlfriend.

The cloud quickly dissipated and Harleen wrinkled her nose at the smokey smell that now clung to her.

"**What is it that you wish to do?"**

_§I need to place this hat on your head,§_ she explained. _§It can see inside your mind and can quickly use what it learned in my mind and what it will see in yours to determine if there is some mutual understanding that we can come to that would be acceptable to us both.§_

The dragon's head tilted to one side again as it studied her.

**"And why does this concern you?"**

_§I rather seriously doubt there are many humans that have attempted to put a hat on a dragon's head and lived long enough to tell anyone about it,§ _Harleen responded as dryly as she could in a language consisting mostly of hisses.

The horntail shook with laughter again. **"True,"**__she said. **"I doubt such a thing has happened before. In this case, I will allow you to place that item on my head if it will help us both be free of this task."**

That said, she leaned down until her chin was nearly resting on the ground right in front of Harleen. Even with as low as the horntail brought herself to the ground, Harleen still had to use her broom to get enough height to place the hat on top of the dragon's head, the brim expanding as she lowered it so that it sat squarely between the large horns at the crown of her head.

Silence reigned for some time, even the crowd in the stands going quiet as they all watched and waited. The quiet lasted for so long, in fact, that when the tear in the brim of the hat opened and its voice echoed out over the stadium, most of the people in attendance actually jumped slightly in surprise.

"Hogwarts offers sanctuary to Lilliom, the Hungarian Horntail and her clutch!" the hat bellowed. "She, and her young, will be protectors, guardians of Hogwarts. Let any that would argue this decision remember the school motto: 'Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus'."

#####

Below them, Sirius, Hermione, and the others watched as Harleen took the sorting hat off of the dragon's head and then accepted the golden egg as the horntail pushed it out of her nest to let it roll to a stop by the witches feet.

"What just happened?" Sirius asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," Hermione returned faintly as Harleen picked up the egg and started walking toward the exit. As the girl in the arena began to move it seemed to galvanize Hermione into motion and she leapt to her feet to run down to meet her girlfriend at the exit, her mind already buzzing with questions.

"Awww… that stupid dragon couldn't even kill Potter correctly," Pansy whined, ignoring the glares that were almost immediately turned in her direction. "I really wanted to see Potter bleed. Maybe we'll get lucky and the little cheater will-"

When Pansy started speaking Hermione had gone ramrod stiff, her arms straight at her sides and her hands curled into fists. She spun on her heel and strode back to the seat she'd just abandoned, stepping up onto it and over the back as Fred and George, after taking one glance at the look on her face, scrambled to get out of her way. Reaching up, Pansy cut off in mid-sentence as Hermione's hand fisted into the front of the other girl's robes and she yanked her down until the two were almost nose to nose, the Gryffindor glaring furiously at the pug faced Slytherin witch.

"Look, you stupid, inbred, incompetent little _bitch_!" she snapped. "Harleen is _not_ a cheater. She didn't enter her name into this damn tournament and doesn't _want_ to be part of it at all. Just because you're a sad, weak, small minded, simpleton, doesn't mean that you get to spread your vitriol about wherever you damn well please, and if I hear one more word out of you I'm not going to be held responsible for my actions!"

"You lousy mudblood! Let go of m-"

Pansy cut off again, this time with a pained cry as Hermione pulled back her right arm and let fly, punching the struggling girl right in the nose with every ounce of strength she had in her body. Pansy was flung backward to land in the seat behind her, both hands flying up to her abused nose even as Hermione cried out in pain as well as she hunched over and cradled her hand to her chest.

A pair of hands grabbed her and only Sirius' voice in her ear stopped her from immediately putting up a struggle. Above them, Crabbe and Goyle seemed lost as to what to do, their attention shifting from a screaming and cursing Pansy to the rest of the group that now had their wands out and pointed at the three hapless Slytherins. When faced with more than a half-a-dozen wands, as well as the icy glare that Sirius directed at them, the two boys did probably the smartest thing either of them had ever done, they left, leaving Pansy behind.

"Come on," Sirius murmured in Hermione's ear while she did her best to stifle the tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks. "That was a damned good punch, but I think you might have broken your hand. Let's get you down to see your girl and let Madam Pomfrey take a look at that hand."

Hermione nodded, letting the older wizard lead her gently away.

#####

When Harleen stepped into the hospital tent she felt as if she were in a daze. Her plan hadn't worked. In fact, all she'd managed to do with that spell she'd found was wear herself out. She could feel the lethargy dragging at her even as she lifted one foot and put in front of the other.

Somehow, despite her big plan going completely wrong, she'd still managed to get the egg and she did it without actually getting injured for once! Of course, Hermione was probably going to crack a few of her ribs with the hug she was expecting to receive once the girl reached her, but Harleen considered that a small price to pay for all the stress and worry that Hermione must experience just by being friends with her, much less being her girlfriend.

"All right, Miss Potter, come sit down over here and let me have a look at you," Poppy Pomfrey ordered when Harleen stepped fully into the tent, already rushing over and wrapping one arm around Harleen's shoulders to lead her over to one of the beds in the tent. Across from her she could see Cedric sitting up in his bed and grinning happily at her, despite the thick orange burn paste he had on one arm. Harleen guessed that was an improvement over the amount of burns that he'd had the previous time.

"I'm fine, Madam Pomfrey," she tried to protest even as she found herself pushed into one of the beds. The egg, her broom, and the sorting hat were all taken from her arms. The egg and hat were set on a small table that appeared beside the bed with her broom stood leaning against it before Madam Pomfrey turned back to her, a fierce scowl on the matronly woman's face.

"I will be the judge of how 'fine' you are Miss Potter, not you. You have already proven yourself to be an unreliable source of information in regards to your health and it is my job, _not_ yours, to know what is wrong with my patients."

"But the dragon didn't even touch me," Harleen protested. "I swear, I didn't get hurt at all. Just a little tired."

"Hmph."

That was the only sound Madam Pomfrey made as she started waving her wand over Harleen's body, silently casting her diagnostic charms and Harleen sighed and leaned back in the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. Across from her, Cedric was obviously doing his best not to burst out laughing at the scene playing out in front of him. Both hands were clamped over his mouth, the portion of his face that was visible above his hands already turning red and his shoulders shook with the effort of containing his laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy," she grumbled good naturedly. "You're the one sitting there cooked medium rare."

That did it for Cedric. He threw his head back and absolutely roared with laughter, tears streaming down his face in record time as his body shook and one fist pounded on the mattress next to him.

Amused by the older Hufflepuff's reaction, in spite of herself, Harleen sat back and let Madam Pomfrey fuss over her, doing her level best to relax as she waited for whatever was to come next.


	15. Social Niceties Must Be Observed

**Author's notes: The Rotten Writer, here once again Ladies and Gentleman with a new chapter for A Fair Life. I actually had some fun with this chapter and I'm very much looking forward to seeing what you all think of it. I've got the immediate aftermath of the first task here as well as the beginning of some future problems. It's gonna be fun. **

**Work continues on all my stories, as promised. Nothing will be abandoned, just some stories nay take longer to see updates than others. Tomorrow is the first day of my new college classes but hopefully that won't interfere too much, we'll see how it goes. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing at all. **

**Here is chapter 15 of A Fair Life. Enjoy!**

A Fair Life

Social Niceties Must Be Observed

By,

Rtnwriter

Five minutes after Harleen entered the medical tent, Sirius, Hermione, and Neville walked into a scene of Cedric laughing uproariously from his bed while Harleen glared good-naturedly at him from her own bed, all three of them looking on with bemused expressions on their faces. When Harleen noticed the three of them standing in the entrance she was immediately concerned over the tears she could see brimming in her girlfriend's eyes. The way she was gently cradling her right hand against her chest also worried Harleen, as well as the split skin on her knuckles and the way her hand and wrist appeared swollen.

"Hermione? What happened?" Harleen asked as she jumped out of the bed, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's protests that she stay put as she rushed over to her girlfriend to gently take her injured hand in her own. "Jeez, did you punch the ferret again?"

As Neville and Sirius both burst out laughing, Hermione flushed and shook her head.

"I heard that story," Neville commented. "How she decked Malfoy last year. No, this time she hit Parkinson right in her pug face. Pretty sure she broke her nose."

"Hermione!" Harleen said in a teasingly admonishing tone. "First ferrets, now pugs? You know it's not nice to be cruel to animals like that, they can't fight back properly."

"Stop teasing Miss Granger and bring her over here so I can take a look at that hand," Madam Pomfrey cut in before Hermione's blushing could get any worse.

Moments after Harleen had her girlfriend settled on the bed she'd just vacated, Madam Pomfrey was casting her charms and muttering under her breath while Harleen pulled a chair over and took a seat on the other side of the bed, reaching out to take Hermione's good hand in her own.

"This is certainly a switch," she commented, smiling tiredly. "I'm usually the one in the hospital bed and you're sitting and worrying about me."

"Well, I figured it was time to change up our routine a bit," Hermione managed to say through gritted teeth while Madam Pomfrey poked and prodded at her hand. "Wouldn't want us to get stuck in a rut, now would we?"

"Heaven forbid."

"Harleen, what was all that out there?" Sirius asked from where he and Neville were standing at the foot of the bed.

"Here," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, pressing a potion vial into Hermione's good hand. "Mild pain potion and then you'll have a small dose of a bone knitting potion. You fractured your knuckles, Miss Granger, as well as two of the bones in your wrist. Since they're only fractures a small dose will be sufficient and I'll let you go once I've wrapped your hand. Keep the wrap in place until tomorrow morning at the least, but come to me any time after that if it bothers you and I'll take another look."

Dutifully, Hermione swallowed down the potions as they were handed to her, a grimace twisting her expression at the taste.

"Hold up on explanations, guys," Harleen said when Madam Pomfrey moved over to check on Cedric. "I'd be willing to bet that we'll be getting a visit from the judges and officials soon to ask me what happened."

"We know you were talking to the dragon," Neville pointed out, slowly sinking into one of two chairs that Sirius conjured for them. "No idea what you two talked about though."

Harleen shrugged. "Yeah, I didn't realize until just before I landed my broom that I was even talking in Parseltongue. It still just sounds like English to me."

They managed to talk for about five more minutes as Hermione's potions worked on healing the damage she'd done to her hand when Harleen suddenly jerked in her seat, her head whipping toward the tent opening.

**"These humans aren't listening, little witchling!"**

Before anyone could ask about her behavior, Harleen was out of her seat and sprinting out of the tent, snatching up the Hat on her way by. Erupting out of the tent she came on the scene of a half a dozen roughly dressed witches and wizards in the act of attempting to subdue the horntail who was crouched protectively over her nest, growling loudly at the assembled humans.

"Oi!" Harleen bellowed furiously. "What in the bleedin' hell do you idiots think you're doing?"

One of the wizards, a stocky, thickly muscled fellow with a shock of bright red hair on the crown of his head turned toward her and she immediately recognized Charlie Weasley.

"Harry?" he asked, seemingly startled by her sudden appearance. "Stay back, we need to get her back into her cage for the trip back to the reserve."

"Don't you people listen?" she snapped, attempting to shove her way past him when he stepped between her and the dragon. Unfortunately, he was entirely too solid for her to move through sheer muscle alone and she ended up practically bouncing off of him instead, so she settled for glaring up at the man. "The Sorting Hat said that the dragon and her eggs are staying here, at Hogwarts. You can't take her back."

"What's she on about, Chuck?" one of the other wizards asked though he never took his eyes off the dragon, nor did he lower the wand that he had pointed at her.

Taking the distraction as an opportunity, Harleen ducked around Charlie and ran toward the dragon, putting herself between the horntail and the team facing her.

"Harry! Get away from her-"

"She's not going to hurt me," Harleen snapped, then she looked over her shoulder at the horntail. _§You're not going to hurt me, right?§_ she asked.

"**Never, little witchling… unless you try to threaten me or my young,"** came the reply and Harleen relaxed just a touch, turning back to Charlie and his people.

"See? She's not going to hurt me, and she's staying here."

As Hermione, Sirius, and Neville stepped into the arena, the area descended into a great deal of shouting, arguing, and general chaos for several tense minutes until a voice cut through the noise, catching everyone's attention.

"Might I ask what seems to be the trouble here?"

As one, the entire group turned toward the tunnel leading out of the arena to find a small crowd gathering just past the entrance. Madame Maxime stood at the back, just rising to her full height after ducking her way through the short tunnel. In front of her and slightly to one side stood Igor Karkaroff along with Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman, the latter of whom seemed to be practically vibrating with excitement, a broad grin spread across his face.

At the head of the group, and also the speaker that had interrupted them, stood the Headmaster, appearing every inch the powerful wizard that he was known to be. He stood tall, shoulders back, chin raised level with the ground, and he had none of the usual twinkle in his eyes, instead giving a hard stare at the team of Dragon Handlers that stood in front of him.

"Professor," Charlie started. "We were trying to get the Horntail back in her cage when Harry came running out saying that she wasn't going back."

"I believe this is actually true, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore responded, "but instead of everyone shouting at each other, why don't we attempt to kill two doxies with one spell, shall we?" Dumbledore turned toward Harleen and she noticed a small glimmer of the usual twinkle appearing in his eyes as he looked at her.

Charlie's reaction would have been funny to Harleen, if she wasn't keeping a wary eye on the Headmaster as he moved through the small crowd toward her.

"Miss Potter?" he asked, stopping in front of her with one hand extended toward her expectantly. "May I?"

She blinked in surprise a few times at the strange question and opened her mouth to ask what he meant when another voice spoke up.

"He means me, Miss Potter," said the hat that she still held in her hands. "Go ahead and hand me over, this will be faster."

Silently, she held out the hat, letting go once Dumbledore had a secure grip on the ancient artifact. He smiled softly behind his beard and offered her a nod of his head.

"Thank you, Miss Potter," he said, just before he placed the hat on his head, his eyes disappearing beneath the brim.

"H-Harry?"

Turning away from the Headmaster, she realized that her friends, along with Charlie, had slowly worked their way closer, though Hermione, Neville, and Sirius appeared less than thrilled to be there. Each of them barely glanced in Harleen's direction, instead keeping their eyes mostly fixed on the dragon looming behind her.

She felt something large bump into her back, gently, but with enough force behind it to cause her to stumble forward a step.

"**Your friends seem very nervous, little witchling,"** the dragon spoke in an amused tone. **"Your mate, in particular, is very worried."**

Harleen rolled her eyes and spun around to glare at the dragon. _§Would you stop that? Please?§_

"**Stop what?"** she asked, taken aback by Harleen's sudden reaction.

_§Stop calling her my 'mate', please?§_ Harleen hissed as quietly as she thought she could get away with. _§For all I know I'm not the only Speaker around here and we don't want people to know about us. Too many have found out already as it is.§_

"**You humans. I don't know how you manage to function with your senses so limited. I can assure you, you are the only Speaker anywhere around here. I would know if there was another with the ability to speak as you do."**

Harleen found that at least somewhat reassuring, but still. _§We make up for the lack of extra senses in other ways,§_ she insisted, to which the dragon snorted again, thankfully without the accompanying cloud of smoke.

"Harleen, are you going to introduce us to your… friend?"

Harleen spun around again to find that Hermione had stepped even closer in the time that she'd been talking to the horntail.

"Uhh…." She trailed off uncertainly for a moment, her gaze darting back and forth between her girlfriend and the dragon still at her back. "I don't know if she has a name, actually, but-"

"**Of course I have a name,"** the horntail interrupted, sounding rather affronted at the suggestion. **"Do you really think dragons so uncivilized that we wouldn't have names?"**

_§It's not about if you're civilized or not, I just… wait...§_

Harleen gaped at the dragon for a moment.

"You understand English?" she suddenly burst out in surprise and the dragon started laughing again.

"**Of course I do. Dragons actually understand most verbal languages. We simply lack the physical ability to speak in anything other than the Noble Tongue."**

"You know… it might have been useful for you to tell me that _before_ I freaked out half the stadium by hissing at you during the task," Harleen grumbled irritably.

"**It is rare that I meet a Speaker,"**__the dragon defended herself. **"I was enjoying the opportunity to speak with a human in my native tongue."**

"So, for your own entertainment, I get to be ostracized by who knows how much of the wizarding world again?" she shot back. "I told you, most witches and wizards see Parseltongue as a _dark_ gift. They're gonna start calling me the next Dark Lady or some such rubbish!"

"**Is it my fault wizards are stupid?"**

"Hey! That's _my_ line!" Harleen cried, leveling one finger accusingly at the horntail. "I've been saying wizards are stupid for years, you can't use that one."

The horntail leaned down until they were eye to eye, Harleen clearly able to see her reflection in the dragon's eye as she studied her for several long moments. **"Are **_**you**_** going to stop me?"**__she asked, still in an amused tone.

Harleen huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know damn well I couldn't stop you, as much as I might want to," she grumbled. "You could at least pretend to be nice and let me have that one."

"**Why let you have it when I specifically stole it from you? It works so well, I couldn't **_**not**_** use it!"**

Harleen waved one hand as if waving away the dragon's excuses. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. So, if you have a name, what is it? My name is Harleen, by the way. Maybe you could stop calling me 'little witchling' now?"

"**But you **_**are**_** little, and you are a witchling, are you not?"**

Sighing, Harleen let her head fall back, eyes directed up toward the sky. "I'm never going to win an argument with her, am I?" she muttered rhetorically.

"**Never."**

"That was a rhetorical question!"

Slightly hysterical giggling caught her attention again and she turned away from the argument she was having with the dragon to see Hermione, hand covering her mouth, eyes a little wild and giggling almost uncontrollably. Harleen supposed it looked rather ridiculous. All her friends could follow was one side of their conversation and she was pretty certain that it must have sounded at least a little insane. Especially considering that all anyone saw was a huge dangerous creature and there was little Harleen Potter, arguing with the dragon as if she were sitting in the Common Room having a friendly argument with Hermione, or perhaps Neville.

"Umm… ma'am?" Sirius called, stepping forward to place one hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I'd like to apologize for my goddaughter, we haven't taught her the finer points of common courtesy yet and she's been incredibly rude for not introducing us. This here is Hermione Granger, Harleen's best friend, you'll have to forgive her, she's had an emotional day and I think she's just about at her limit of surprises. This is Neville Longbottom, a young man that is turning out to be a very good friend to Harleen as well, and as I already alluded to, I'm Harleen's godfather, Sirius Black. Could we have your name, please?"

At first, Harleen wanted to be somewhat offended over some of Sirius' commentary. Then she figured he probably had a bit of a point. She _hadn't_ taken a moment to introduce them, but in her defense it wasn't every day that one found oneself in a position to introduce their friends to a bloody dragon! One more glance at Hermione killed any wish she might have had to protest, as it was clear to her that the girl was holding on by a thread.

"**That interesting hat of yours already said my name,"** the horntail spoke. **"It was a single utterance amongst some surprising information though, so I can understand how it might have been missed. My name is Lilliom, and tell your godfather that it is a pleasure to meet all three of them."**

"She says that her name is Lilliom, and it's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Lilliom?" Sirius asked in a surprised tone. "Really? That's a bit coincidental."

"What do you mean, Sirius?" Harleen asked.

"Well, I dated a Hungarian girl a while back. If I'm remembering correctly, Lilliom is Hungarian for Lily."

#####

It took a bit longer for things to calm after that. Eventually the chasers and the Weasley twins, along with Ginny joined them down in the arena. Fred and George were particularly pleased to be introduced to Lilliom, and Harleen found herself resolving to keep a very close eye on them. If there were two people in the school that would likely try to put the school motto to the test, it was those two, and she didn't want to know what would happen if Molly Weasley caught word that two of her kids got themselves eaten by a dragon.

By the time that Dumbledore took the Sorting Hat off his head, Hermione had calmed considerably and was actually chatting with Lilliom, with Harleen acting as translator so that Hermione could understand the dragon's responses. Despite not being completely terrified anymore, it was clear the stress had taken a toll on her and Harleen just wanted everything to wrap up so she could get her girlfriend somewhere quiet and private.

"You, Miss Potter, never cease to impress," Dumbledore said, pulling everyone's attention to him. "The immediate issue as to the status of our new friend, Madam Lilliom, the Hungarian Horntail, is thus. According to the Hat, as Hogwarts is a semi-sentient entity, as well as being separate from the Ministry and therefore nearly a sovereign nation in and of itself, the school has offered sanctuary to Madam Lilliom and her eggs."

"What does that mean?" Ludo Bagman interjected, practically bouncing in place with joy over the entire proceedings.

_Not going to be so happy once Rita gets her hooks into your business dealings, Ludo,_ Harleen thought, resisting the urge to glare at the man.

"It means that this fine dragon will be living here, at Hogwarts, from now on. She is under the protection of the school and has Hogwarts' express permission to reside on the grounds, under the conditions that she helps to protect the school and that she doesn't hurt any of the students or visitors." Dumbledore turned to look at Harleen.

"Might the school prevail upon you, Miss Potter, to assist on occasion with communicating with Madam Lilliom so that we can ensure that all of her and her children's needs are met? I'm certain that Hagrid would be delighted to help in whatever way he can." There was no hiding the grin the old wizard had behind his beard, though he at least appeared to be trying.

"I'd be happy to help Hagrid and Lilliom," she told him, grinning herself at the thought of just how excited Hagrid was going to be over the whole thing.

"Thank you, Miss Potter. Now, if you and your friends might give myself and the other judges a few moments, we shall settle on your score and announce the scores for all the champions so that we can finally conclude this task."

As they stepped away, Harleen tugged slightly on Sirius' arm.

"I'm gonna take Hermione back to Madam Pomfrey, she still needs to wrap her hand."

At the wizard's nod she took hold of her girlfriend's arm and slowly drew her away from Lilliom, toward the medical tent and the waiting, no doubt irate, medical witch.

Scores could wait. Everything appeared to be settling and more than anything Harleen wanted to be sure that the girl she loved got the care she needed. She was sure they were going to be in for some long discussions and difficult decisions later and they would both need to be running on all cylinders as much as it was possible to be.

One thing she knew for sure, she didn't regret how the task had gone. Adding a new and powerful defender to the school could only be a good thing in her mind, but just how would this massive change in the timeline affect things going forward?

Grimly, she shoved such thoughts aside and pulled Hermione into the tent resolved to worry about that later. All she could do right at that moment was pray that her actions did not change things too much or they would be in for a very difficult time.

_One thing at a time_, she thought as Madam Pomfrey bustled her way over to them, muttering darkly under her breath. _Worry about one thing at a time. Deal with the things you can, and with Hermione with you, face the rest as we always have, head on and supporting each other through it._

After Madam Pomfrey finished wrapping Hermione's hand she admonished both of them for leaving the tent without permission. "If you can sit quietly for ten minutes, without anyone getting injured, I'll let you both go," she told them in a sharp, demanding tone that caused both girls to nod rapidly in agreement. She eyed them for a moment longer then gave her signature 'hmph', and stalked away to check on Cedric's burns.

"I have never been so scared in my life," Hermione hissed under her breath once the Mediwitch was far enough away.

Harleen winced at the note of anger in her girlfriend's voice.

"I know," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I thought the illusions would fool her. But, on the plus side, I didn't get hurt," she pointed out. "That's got to win me some leniency, right?"

Hermione's only response was a withering glare that had Harleen shrinking slightly in her seat beside the bed. While she very much wanted to hug her girlfriend, or at least hold her hand, Harleen restrained herself while they were still in full view of Cedric and Madam Pomfrey. The ten minutes passed in a tense, awkward silence until the Mediwitch approached and waved her wand over Hermione a few times, then over Harleen.

"Your hand will be tender for a bit longer but it appears to be fully healed. Don't strain yourself too much and it should be back to normal by tomorrow morning but I want you to come to me if you experience any sharp or unexpected pains, understand?" Madam Pomfrey asked, to which Hermione nodded her head, murmuring a quiet acceptance.

Turning to Harleen her expression became a bit more severe. "You, young lady, have used up a lot of magic. Whatever you did out there was rather power intensive, but you should also recover by tomorrow. I'm viewing it as something of a miracle that you didn't come here lying at death's door! Rest, and do not strain yourself either. Limit magic use until tomorrow but you should be just fine."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Are we cleared to leave now? The Headmaster was saying they were going to give my scores for the task in a few minutes."

"Yes, yes, get out of here, and don't let me see you back in my Hospital wing any time soon if you can possibly help it!"

The last was practically shouted at their backs as the two girls hurried out of the tent, Cedric's quiet chuckling filling the air behind them.

Outside, Harleen kept close to Hermione's side as they approached the group they'd left behind. Hagrid had joined them, and with tears streaming down his face, he was waxing on about how beautiful and amazing Lilliom was, chattering away so fast that his thick accent had him completely unintelligible to the rest of them.

_Oh, well,_ Harleen thought with a fond smile. _We might not be able to understand him, but at least he's happy._

"**Your friend here is quite excitable,"**__Lilliom commented when she spotted the two girls approaching.

"Yeah, well Hagrid really loves dragons and other dangerous creatures," Harleen responded in English. "I'm sure he'll calm down a bit, eventually."

Hermione's quiet snort from beside her had Harleen grinning slightly, though her amusement was dimmed by the fact that there was a hard look around the girl's eyes that showed she was still angry.

Looking around, Harleen found that the judges had returned to the box from which they'd watched the task and Dumbledore was approaching the railing, wand in hand.

"If we might have everyone's attention?" he called, the sonorous charm he'd cast allowing his voice to carry over the entire audience. "After seeking answers to some questions and deliberating amongst ourselves, we are prepared to give out the scores for Miss Potter's performance during this first task."

One by one, each judge cast their charm, causing a ribbon to erupt from their wands and twist into the shape of a number. Harleen barely held back a snort as she got exactly the same score as she did last time around, once again putting her in first place.

As they left, Hermione pulled Sirius aside and whispered in his ear while Harleen said goodbye to Lilliom who was listening to Hagrid rambling on about everything he'd ever learned about dragons. In the back of her mind, Harleen thought that Hermione might have more than a few choice words to share with her, once her girlfriend got her alone.

#####

Several hours later found Hermione pacing furiously back and forth in front of the fire in the Room of Requirement as Harleen sat on a small couch, listening silently as Hermione ranted and raved, gesturing wildly with her hands as she spoke.

"...dragons don't use all the same senses that we do! Did you do anything to mask your scent? Or silence any sounds that you might have made in the arena?"

Harleen winced.

"Of course you didn't," Hermione snapped. "Did you research dragons at all before the task?"

Harleen winced again, her shoulders hunched inward slightly and Hermione threw her hands into the air.

"You knew! You _knew_ that you were going to be facing a dragon and you didn't do _any_ research into the different species! What did you actually do to prepare for the task? What did you do last time?"

Quietly, in a very small sounding voice, Harleen spoke up for the first time in nearly twenty minutes. "Last time I summoned my broom and flew around until the horntail gave me an opening to dive in and swipe the egg out of the nest. I finished the task with the fastest time but one of her tail spikes caught my shoulder. Left me with a pretty nasty scar, too. I looked up illusions to try to distract her this time. Flying worked before, so I thought it would have been easier to get through unhurt if I could give her some other targets to focus on instead of just me."

"That _might_ have helped if she hadn't been able to see through the illusion you created!" Hermione snapped, to which Harleen flinched noticeably.

It was the flinch that finally caught Hermione's attention and she stopped pacing long enough to focus more fully on her girlfriend. Harleen quickly attempted to hide the fact that she was barely holding back a flood of tears by offering a weak, shaky smile and Hermione suddenly felt awful for the way she'd been ranting at the girl.

"Dammit."

She sighed, the lion's share of her anger bleeding away as she exhaled. Moving over to sit next to Harleen, the raven-haired teen offered no resistance as her girlfriend pulled her into her arms.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, clutching Harleen tightly.

"It's okay."

Anger flared again, though this time not directed at the girl in her arms and Hermione quickly stamped it down.

"It's not okay," she insisted. "I hate that you just accept the way I was just treating you as if that's how things should be. You scared the life out of me, love, but that doesn't give me the right to act like a hag. Talking down to you, acting as if you're stupid or something."

The more she spoke, the more horrible and guilty Hermione felt. Harleen had just survived the first task, unscathed, and instead of celebrating, here she was berating her for how she went about it.

_Merlin, when did I become such a bitch?_ she wondered.

"It wasn't a bad plan," she slowly admitted, "but against a creature like a dragon it just wasn't enough on its own."

Harleen remained silent, her eyes directed at the floor.

"Do you think you could do me a favor?" Hermione suddenly asked, drawing Harleen's gaze back up to meet hers.

"What?" she asked.

"Didn't you say that you were told you couldn't pull the 'lone hero' thing anymore?"

Harleen winced again, but slowly nodded her head.

"_Let me_ _help you_. We are good at different things. You're very smart, love, but research and planning? That's _my_ forte. If you had told me you were going to be facing a dragon, and what your plan was, I might have been able to help you come up with something a bit better." Unconsciously her arms tightened around the other girl, pulling her closer. "So no more hiding things from me. Tell me what's going on and let me help."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"I know, but in the end, not knowing made me worry even more," she said earnestly, determined to get the girl to understand. "I love you, Harleen, and I can't very well spend the rest of my life growing old with you if you go and get yourself killed because you refuse to tell me something that I could have helped you with!"

Harleen's eyes widened and a dumbfounded expression stole over her face for several moments.

"Did you… did you just ask me to marry you?" she suddenly blurted out.

Jerking in surprise, Hermione thought back over what she'd just said and felt the heat in her face as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

"Err… well, no, not exactly," she stammered out in a slight panic. "I mean, I'm not exactly against the idea… I think? But I haven't really given it a lot of thought either. W-we're a little young for that kind of thinking anyway, aren't we?"

Her rambling broke off into silence when Harleen leaned closer and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth before she let her head rest back on Hermione's shoulder.

"For the record," Harleen whispered, "young or not, I _know_ that there is no one in the world better for me than you. I'm happy to wait until you're sure before I ask you, so don't worry about it."

Dumbfounded shock ran through Hermione's body as that particular statement fully registered followed by a wave of warmth that seemed to pool in her chest. Before she could properly examine the feeling, or formulate a response, Harleen spoke again.

"I promise, by the way. No more trying to do things on my own. You're right, working together we're a pretty unbeatable team and I should have thought of that. It was stupid of me not to ask you for help, especially after how much I've already said that I need you to help me change the future. There's a reason that I was allowed to tell you, specifically, as much as I did. I _need_ to keep that in mind."

_And you still haven't told me exactly what that reason is,_ Hermione couldn't help but think to herself. _This role that I can fill in your life that you've refused to tell me about._

"Everyone is entitled to mistakes and moments of poor decision making," Hermione mused, "just so long as we learn from them, right? And I'm including myself in that. How I reacted was certainly not the best by any means. I can only blame fear and panic for that."

Her tone was apologetic and Harleen's only response was to wrap her arms around the other girl and squeeze tightly.

After several minutes, Hermione sighed. "We're missing the party," she pointed out reluctantly.

"Don't care," came Harleen's response.

Hermione sighed but had to agree with her girlfriend's assessment, she didn't really care much about the party either. In fact, they had barely managed to endure almost two hours of praise and congratulations before they had snuck out in order to be alone. As far as they were aware, and based on past experience they were most likely right, the party was probably still going strong, even without Harleen's presence. At best, a few of their friends might ask later where she'd gotten to, but it wouldn't stop the majority from taking full advantage of an excuse to throw a party.

Luckily, they were finally sure that most of the tower seemed to be squarely behind Harleen, though how many of them honestly believed that she didn't enter herself into the tournament was probably something they would never know for sure.

"I don't need a party," Harleen continued. "I don't even _want_ a party. I just need you."

Her breath hitching in her throat, Hermione pulled the girl closer as Harleen looked up at her.

"You have me," she spoke earnestly. "You will _always_ have me if I have anything at all to say about it."

She hadn't planned on it, but she couldn't help but draw her girlfriend into an emotional kiss. The day had already put Hermione through the emotional wringer, from the worry she'd felt when waking that morning, the high of their antics in bed, followed by more worry and anxiety, then the sheer terror of watching the love of her life facing off against something that could have easily killed her… suffice it to say that Hermione Granger was emotionally all over the map and she felt more than a touch out of control.

For a time, Hermione did something she rarely willingly did, she threw logic and rational thinking aside and simply let herself get lost in her girlfriend, kissing her with an ever increasing abandon until a surprised moan caught her attention. She pulled away from Harleen, just enough to catch her breath and take in their positions, both. Rows arching toward her hairline in surprise once she fully registered how they were now situated.

Breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed a brilliant red, Harleen had somehow moved from sitting next to Hermione to straddling her lap. Her arms were wrapped around Hermione's neck and it took the brunette witch a moment to notice that she had both of her own hands tightly gripping Harleen's bum through the uniform she'd been provided with for the tournament.

That, she realized, was likely what had caused the intoxicatingly arousing sound that had escaped her girlfriend's mouth.

She froze for a moment, her eyes widening in shock. Since becoming a couple, regular kisses shared between the two girls whenever they were alone had become the norm, but there had been few instances of full-blown snogging. During those times, Hermione _had_ let her hands explore her girlfriend's body, but she'd made a conscious effort to curb her desires and had kept those explorations to relatively safe areas. This was the first time either of them had strayed into such territory and she really wasn't sure how Harleen was going to react.

As the seconds ticked by, and Harleen remained perfectly still above her, Hermione slowly loosened her grip and began moving her hands up toward Harleen's back.

"No!" Harleen blurted out, one hand reaching back to grab Hermione's wrist, preventing her from moving that hand away. "Don- you don't have to… I mean…"

Harleen stammered for a moment before she trailed off and deliberately pushed Hermione's hand back down until it once again rested squarely on the firm curve of her arse.

"You don't have to stop," she whispered. "That… uh… that feels really good." She was blushing brightly as she spoke and Hermione gently kissed her again.

"We don't have to," she said over the thumping of her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Truthfully, she wanted to. She wasn't entirely sure just how far she wanted to go, but some part of her desperately wanted to touch and explore the girl in her arms. Rationally she knew that her desire was likely being heightened as a response to the worry and terror she'd experienced while watching the first task, but she really couldn't bring herself to care overly much.

Further rational thought was momentarily banished when Harleen leaned into her. "I want to," she breathed quietly, just before her lips covered Hermione's again, tongue delving into the bushy-haired witch's mouth.

Her heart racing, Hermione let both hands drop back where they had been and gave a firm squeeze. She couldn't help but grin against her girlfriend's lips as a soft moan tumbled from Harleen's mouth. Hermione let her hands explore the other girl's curves, those same curves that had been playing havoc with her heart rate for weeks now as her mouth covered Harleen's, swallowing each soft sound as she coaxed them out of the other girl.

Moving one hand, she reached up to pull one of Harleen's arms away from where they were both still wrapped around her neck.

"What's wrong?" Harleen asked breathlessly, pulling away just enough to be able to look at Hermione clearly.

Hermione found herself grinning again, thrilled by the slightly dazed look in her girlfriend's eyes, the bright green looking darker than usual and nearly swallowed entirely by her dilated pupils.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione assured her as she took Harleen's right hand and moved it down, placing it directly over her left breast. Her grin grew wider when Harleen's eyes widened and she suddenly sucked in a sharp, hissing breath.

"We stop when either of us feels we've gone far enough, right?" Hermione whispered, holding Harleen's hand in place on her breast.

Harleen gave a shaky nod, her hand trembling beneath Hermione's.

Slowly, Hermione moved her hand away, returning it to its previous location. For several seconds neither girl moved, then Harleen slowly flexed her hand, fingers straightening out for a moment before curling in again, giving the soft flesh under her palm a tentative squeeze.

A shiver of delight ran down Hermione's spine and she pulled Harleen even closer, both girls choosing to ignore the world that waited for them outside the Room. There would be plenty of time to deal with that later. Right now they each had found far more interesting explorations to occupy their time and they were determined to make the most of the privacy they had found while they had it.

#####

Augusta Longbottom set down the letter she'd received from her grandson, a pensive expression on her face. The first task had taken place the day before but she had been unable to attend.

It pleased her to hear how well Harleen had performed during the task itself, as well as hearing of the effort how her now ward was putting into befriending the other champions. It seemed that the young Miss Potter understood the value of networking and making connections.

"Maybe some of that enterprising nature will rub off on my grandson," she muttered to herself.

Overall, she was pleased with what she'd been hearing from Neville in regard to Harleen. She had been worried that the girl would have more trouble adjusting to her shift in gender, but for all intents and purposes, the girl seemed to be handling things admirably. Far better, she suspected, than most adults would have handled the situation.

Her pensiveness as she finished her letter was from a different source entirely. Dragons. Those fools at the Ministry had actually forced the champions to face _dragons_ for the first task! Did they not understand that three of the champions were very important individuals? The Diggory boy was the only child of the family and while not a Most Ancient and Noble House, they were still well regarded and influential members of British wizarding society.

The Delacour girl was the eldest daughter of Sebastian Delacour, the Deputy Minister of the French Ministry of Magic, and Harleen Potter's importance to their world could not be disputed, even by those that hated her on principal.

What would those fools have done if any of those children had been fatally injured? What if one of them had been crippled, or maimed? The possible political ramifications were impossible to predict, yet they didn't seem to care about the potential disaster they were courting with their actions.

A soft crack suddenly interrupted her dark musings and she turned her attention to the sharply dressed elf that had appeared by her knee.

"Yes, Flopsy?" she asked. "What is it?"

"Flopsy is being sorry for disturbing you, Lady Longbottom," the elf squeaked out. "Your appointment has arrived."

Augusta frowned and only just managed to suppress the urge to let out an exasperated sigh.

"Very well. Show him in and I believe we'll take tea here," she responded, already in the process of ensuring that her dress was presentable and her robes were free of lint or wrinkle.

She barely noticed when Flopsy gave a short bow and disappeared with another crack of displaced air. On any normal day there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that she would ever entertain one such as the man that had arrived to see her. Propriety, alone, prevented her from telling that vile slug of a human being what he could do with his request for an audience and Augusta Longbottom would see her ancestral home burn to the ground before she ever knowingly brought shame or dishonor on her family name through her own actions.

The niceties _would_ be observed and then she would move him on his way.

She rose smoothly from her seat, no sign of her advancing years present in the way she held herself as the sharp, staccato tap coming down the hall reached her ears. Just as she straightened to her full height, he entered the room, dressed as immaculately as ever in black and gray silk, platinum blond hair slicked back and just brushing his shoulders as he moved. One gloved hand gripped the silver snake head to his cane, an affectation, she knew, as the man had no physical need for it.

"Augusta," he said in his usual smooth tones as he came to a stop before her, accepting the hand she offered and bowing to place a kiss on the air just above her knuckles. "So good of you to have me on such short notice."

"Mister Malfoy," she responded, her tone considerably less friendly, though not outrightly hostile. One had to be very careful of such things. "I confess I was surprised to receive your letter. I don't believe that Houses Longbottom and Malfoy had much, if anything, to discuss in matters of business."

She gestured politely to one of the chairs for him to sit as she took her own seat. As propriety demanded, Lucius waited until after she was seated before taking his own seat. He reached into his robes and removed a tightly rolled scroll of parchment, silently reaching out to set it on the table between them.

One brow arched sharply as she immediately recognized the royal blue ribbon that had been used to tie the scroll shut and understanding suddenly dawned just as the tea set along with a small platter of finger sandwiches arrived on the table.

Augusta used the opportunity provided by the necessity of preparing and serving their cups to gather herself.

"You are aware that I will have to discuss this with her before making any binding agreements? We haven't had much time to talk and I have no idea how she feels about such things," she pointed out after taking a slow sip of her tea, her eyes fixed carefully on the, and she used the term loosely, man sitting across from her.

"Of course, Madam Longbottom," he said, his face carefully impassive. "I trust that I will be able to impress upon you the possible benefits, and that you might convey them to your ward. House Longbottom has much to gain, as does House Potter."

"Perhaps," she muttered. Reaching out, she plucked the scroll off the table and removed the ribbon, setting it carefully aside. "Perhaps not," she added as she unrolled the parchment and began to read. "We shall see, Mister Malfoy. We shall see."


End file.
